Completions and Connections
by LeighKelly
Summary: After an encounter with an attractive nurse practioner in a ski shop, busy photojournalist Brittany Pierce spends the next year attempting to see her again. Short multi-chapter Christmas fic, based on Christmas Wrapping and Love, Actually.
1. Part One

**Author's Note: So, I couldn't help but write a Christmas fic this year. This one will be four parts, plus short interludes between, and will take place over the course of a year, and is based on The Waitresses' song Christmas Wrapping (which HeMo sang in season three) and loosely inspired by Love, Actually. Enjoy!**

* * *

 **December, 29th 2013**

 _New York, New York_ _—Eastern Standard Time_

"Alright, T, I _get_ it. Mike proposed. You're engaged. Big shiny ring. Big shiny wedding. I'm happy for you, like, _really_ happy, but do you think you can just keep from shoving your hand if my face for maybe sixteen seconds?"

"Jeeze, relax, Brittany. You missed the engagement party—"

"Because a freak snowstorm cancelled my connecting flight from Boston, and I was stuck sharing a single double bed at the Holiday Inn with a hipster photo editor who doesn't shower regularly." I defended, rubbing my temple to stave off an impending headache, not only from Tina's voice, but because I'd actually _invited_ her on what is supposed to be a _relaxing_ ski trip, for my first full week in the United States in almost six months. With one shoe off in the middle of REI on Lafayette street, the last vestiges of Christmas still sort of hanging around until New Year's Day, I assessed the room, counting shoppers, in case I decided to clock her in the head with a ski boot. Better to wait until we get to Jackson Hole, I figured, too many witnesses lacing the new boot instead, and wiggling my toes to test it.

"I'm just making sure you know that we're getting _married."_ Tina sighed, way too happily, shooting one of those weird, dreamy movie looks in the direction of the snowboards, where Mike was debating buying a new one. "And that you won't be in Bangladesh, or Saudi Arabia, or wherever, next January."

"I'll be there, Tina, I told you like sixty-five times. Providing some horrifying freak accident that leaves me stranded on a mountaintop with no choice but to sever my own arm—"

"Not funny. You climb mountains all the time, at least if you're missing a limb, make sure it's healed by the wedding. I don't want your bloody stump drawing attention away from me."

"I'm glad you're so concerned about my well-being." I rolled my eyes, and started on the other boot, beginning to tune her out.

The thing is, contrary to my present state of grump, I, Brittany S. Pierce, no relation to Britney Spears, _am_ happy for them,. Please don't get me wrong, Tina Cohen-Chang and her _fiancé_ —I'm not sure if you heard, they're _engaged—_ Mike Chang, no relation, I checked extensively for them, have been my closest friends since they'd saved me from a mugger outside of Washington Square Park ten years ago when we were still at NYU, but to understand my frustration, you have to understand _Tina._ She means well, she really does, but she has absolutely no sense of what goes on around her about ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the time. Which, of course, means she doesn't have the sense not to talk about flowers for her wedding—a _year_ from now, mind you—seventeen-minutes after I'd run into my ex-boyfriend of only sixteen months with a baby on his lap. An actual human baby. _His_ actual human baby. I mean, honestly, I thought it was kind of weird that he didn't have a wheelchair—the baby, not Artie, Artie still had a wheelchair—since even though I knew realistically that wouldn't be the case, I always just kind of pictured us having tiny babies in tiny wheelchairs, whatever. But I digress.

So Artie. Artie and I had dated on and off for years. I'd met him in that one lame required chemistry class that I'd saved for my last semester of my senior year of college. He was super nerdy, and I kind of had a thing for him. Then that thing grew into a bigger thing, and when I asked him out, he'd told me he had to wait fourteen days. Apparently he had the clap, and wanted to wait until it cleared up, in case we had sex on the first date. I know, I know, I've been hearing it for six years, how that should have been an indicator for me to _not_ date him. But it wasn't, okay? I liked him, and then I loved him, and then, by the time he'd rolled up to me and opened a black velvet box and asked me to marry him, I couldn't _stand_ him, like, at all. He complained constantly about my lack of availability because of my job.

I mean, okay, I can't totally blame him for that, but it's not like I didn't tell him on our first date that I wanted to be a famous photojournalist who traveled the world taking pictures of cool shit. What, did he not want my dream to come true? No, apparently he didn't. He resented my job at _Discover_ magazine, he resented my restlessness, and the fact that I was quick to take any assignment I could, no matter where it was, even if it meant missing his great-aunt Frieda's ninetieth birthday party, and I think, most of all, he resented my success.. He pretty much wanted me to sit in some palatial apartment in East Midtown with those cute babies of his, while he brought home the bacon. I did _not_ want that, and when he offered me a ring, and this promise of "financial security," I may have laughed in his face. But still, I really didn't expect him to give someone else the ring and the financial security and the babies so soon. I may not have _wanted_ them, but he was my ex, it was basically the law that I could be bitter that _he_ had them, while I was still waiting for Mr. or Ms. right to come and actually sweep me off my feet.

"Are you even listening to me?" Tina huffed, interrupting my thoughts about Artie and his really cute little ball of baby smell.

"Are you talking about band versus DJ? Band. Always band. I know I guy."

"We know the _same_ guy, and I'm not having Puck's Van Halen cover band at my wedding. Nice try on his part, recruiting you to the cause. But no, I wasn't talking about that, I was just going to point out the hot doctor over there." She cocked her head to the side, and I turned mine slowly, not expecting much until—my jaw dropped. Like actually fell open, not just in my head, but for real, at the dark haired _goddess_ in navy scrubs,—which she was wearing in the totally sexy _Grey's Anatomy_ kind of way, with a long sleeved grey t-shirt underneath, sleeves rolled up and everything—and white sneakers, trying out ski poles that were like four sizes too big for her. "Ho-ly Saint Raphael."

"Saint _who?"_

"Saint Raphael, patron saint of medical professionals."

"It's _really_ weird that you, of parents who celebrate the solstices, break out the saints after that month you spend at the convent in Argentina."

"The more you know." I shrugged, but didn't tear my eyes off my future wife...or, some other less creepified term.

"I'm sure he appreciates his name being associated with your dirty thoughts. Why don't you go over there and introduce yourself?"

"Look, I know you straights meet people in the grocery store, or whatever, but it's beyond weird if I just go up to her _hi, I'm Brittany, Brittany Pierce, if you read anthropological magazines, you might recognize my name. I almost won a Pulitzer, but that bitch Rachel Berry stole it right out from under me, then sent a consolation gift basket."_

"Do you have to overthink _everything?_ I'm surprised you haven't already made excuses about how hard it is for you to date in between vaccines for rare diseases and work traveling. You can't complain about being single and cry over Artie's baby if you have a thousand excuses."

"Rude. Also, I didn't cry. At least, not a lot."

"Just go help her with the skis. You grew up on the things, and she looks like she's never seen a pair."

"That's weird."

"Go, or I'm going to talk about the menu." So maybe Tina knows me really well, and that was exactly the motivation I needed to run away and talk to the hot girl in scrubs. "Also, leave out the Rachel bitterness! Just be you, you're hot, she's hot…"

So maybe I was a little creepy—I blame it on my job completely, since ninety-percent of my time I spend watching and waiting for opportune moments to snap away—but I stood there watching her mess around with the ski poles for awhile, snapping occasionally at a very colorful and very gay man, and a black woman, the latter, having absolutely none of her incredibly sassy attitude. But really, I could totally listen to her sass. I could listen to her recite the phonebook, if she wanted to. Her voice was sexy, a little raspy…and it suited her, with her darting black eyes, and her, well, everything.

It wasn't until her friends left her in a huff, and I was sure she'd hurt herself, the way she was holding them, blood I could _not_ have on my hands, before I stepped into the periphery of her space, smiling sort of weirdly when she looked up at me.

"Uh, can I help you?" Both of her eyebrows raised, in what was obviously irritation. I almost turned away and went back to what I was doing, but then Tina mouthed _salmon_ to me, and I reconsidered that.

"No...I, uh...I was thinking maybe I could help _you?"_

"Do you work here or something? Because I gotta say, if you do, I've been waiting like forty-five minutes for Ted to find boots in my size, and I've got a patient coming at two-o'clock, so if he could hurry up, that would be _beautiful."_

"Oh. Yeah, no, I don't work here. I was just watching you. Not in a creepy way or anything." I smacked my hand to my head, mentally, at least, and shook it. "My dad's a professional skier, is what I meant to say. I've been skiing my whole life, and I'm a little concerned you're going to hurt yourself. These poles are way too big for you, and...I don't know, forget it. I'm not very good with people I'm not shooting."

"Okay, _what?"_ She dropped the poles and put her hands up in front of her. Oops. I could absolutely see where she'd misconstrue that. "What kind of psycho are you? Is this a joke? Did Lady Hummel put you up to this? Because I swear, I will go all—"

"No, no, no, oh God." Really, I was a disaster. Certified. Disaster. Maybe I should have accepted Artie's shitty proposal and had his babies, because at the rate I was going, I was most definitely going to be single for the rest of my life. "With a camera! I'm a photographer. A real one. Not like...amateur porn or anything. Okay, I'm just going to stop talking and walk away right now. Hearing about chicken or fish is less painful than the fool I'm making of myself."

"I have absolutely _no_ idea what you're even saying. Are you okay? Are you having a stroke or something?"

"No, I'm not having a stroke." I couldn't help myself, I rolled my eyes at her, though...she was a doctor. Maybe I _was_ having a stroke, a prolonged one that made me entirely incapable of talking to women. Men were much easier, they saw boobs, I didn't make a fool of myself, but girls _had_ boobs, I needed to actually string together coherent sentences, and— "Can we just start over?"

"Start _what_ over?" Her eyebrows were still raised, but I noticed that she was sort of looking me over, and _not_ in the _Mean Girls_ kind of way, in the maybe-she-likes-ladies kind of way. So. Progress...ish.

"I'm Brittany. Brittany Pierce. I wanted to offer to help you with your skis. Also, beautiful woman make me nervous, so I'm sorry."

"Wait, are you hitting on me?" I sort of expected her to start laughing really bitterly at me, so I was super shocked when she actually smiled and cocked her head to the side. "Oh, honey, it's a good thing you're cute."

"I mean...I really did want to offer you some help too. You can get really hurt on the slopes if you're not adequately prepared."

"To be honest with you, _Brittany."_ Okay, so my name sounded _really_ sexy coming from lady doctor's lips, I would absolutely take that over the sass or the phonebook, but I kept that to myself. "Mercedes, my best friend over there, the one in the power suit, met some douchebag ski instructor in Williamsburg last weekend and now she's dragging our asses up to Hunter for the weekend. Kurt and I are already planning on _not_ skiing, and sitting in the lodge judging people. I mean, I give it three hours before _he_ finds a douchebag guy and ditches me for him, but I can tell you this, _I_ won't be on the slopes. My winter activities include brunch at because they have a fireplace, and bitching about store owners who don't shovel their sidewalks."

"So I don't have to be concerned that you'll hurt yourself out there? Not even if some douchebag guy turns _your_ head?"

"Ha!" She laughed out loud, and wow, she had dimples for days, and crinkly eyes, and she flipped her ponytail, the absolute trifecta of sexy laughter. Sex on legs, really. Sex on legs who apparently _wasn't_ into douchebag guys. "That will never happen."

"So you're just going to sit in the lodge and judge by yourself?"

"Why not? There's warmth, there's alcohol. That's my kind of skiing. I mean, I assume not for you?"

"If I sit in the lodge, I'll inevitably end up talking to someone, and you see how well that goes for me."

"Hey, you're doing fine now." The teasing way her mouth curled was kind of adorable, and I was trying like, way hard not to stare at those lips incredible lips of hers. "You haven't made me want to run in the other direction in almost two whole minutes!"

"Well in _that_ case—" I tried to turn my rusty flirting skills on for real, for real, hoping they didn't fail me miserable _again,_ and I glanced down at the script on the left breast of her scrubs. flicking my eyes up really quickly, so she didn't think I was ogling her books or anything. They were nice, duh, but I was absolutely not putting myself on the level of one of those—in her words— _douchebag guys._ "Do I get to find out your name? Or do I have to call you S. Lopez? Or Dr. Lopez? Or just _S,_ like you're on _Pretty Little Liars?"_

"I'm actually not a doctor. I hate doctors, my father's one, and it's the biggest thorn in his side that I decided to become a nurse practitioner instead." She stuck her tongue through her teeth, kind of like she was letting me in on some big secret of hers. It was cute, really cute, and I really hoped I wasn't blushing.

"Okay so... _not-_ Dr. Lopez, what do your patients call you?"

"By my first name." She winked at me. She was totally flirting, or, at least I thought she was. Winking is flirting, isn't it? God, I really needed to get out more, and like, out to a bar, with other humans who speak to each other, not out to check out the ruins of old churches or something.

"So since you're not telling me your name then, can you tell me if you have a specialty."

" _If_ you promise not to make a lesbian joke."

"I mean, I obviously have absolutely no control of what comes out of my mouth, so I'm not sure I can make that promise. Why, do lesbian jokes offend you?"

"Please, I'm _awesome_ at lesbian jokes. It's just lesbian specializing in gynecology, the jokes were old before I even got out of school."

"Ew." I couldn't help but wrinkle my nose, and she looked at me, kind of...pissed maybe? "No, not ew about the gynecology. Ew that people make jokes like that. It's your _job,_ it's a medical speciality, why would they even sexualize it? I mean, I guess I kind of understand what you're saying though, I take pictures of topless women regularly, so I know about the jokes."

"You take pictures of topless women? I thought you said your _shooting_ wasn't amateur porn."

"Oh! It's totally not. I promise, I'm not about to get weird. I work for _Discover,_ the magazine, not the crappy credit card that no one accepts. Double major in cultural anthropology and photography, so I travel all over. I'm actually going right from Wyoming to Nepal."

"And not to ski Everest, I assume."

"Definitely not." I laughed really loud, and then reminded myself to dial it back. It was finally _not_ going disastrously, and hey, bonus, she totally said she was a lesbian, so maybe I actually had a shot at getting her number. "Doing a story on the people that _live_ Everest."

"Sounds pretty awesome. I don't exactly subscribe to _Discover,_ reading trashy magazines I steal from the waiting room is more my thing, but maybe I'll have to pick up a copy."

"Or maybe you'll let me take you to lunch when I get back, and I'll tell you all about it person?

"Ooh, someone has stepped up her game. Look at you." She teased me, laughing as she took her phone out of her back pocket—hello, even I should have noticed _that_ lesbian calling card when I'd been checking her out. "I think I'll have to take you up on that."

"For real?" Okay, so I definitely actually smacked myself in the head after I said that. "So close."

"Like I said before, you're really cute, Brittany. And it's Santana."

"I'm pretty sure that's Coldplay." I furrowed my brow, listening to the music overhead that was most definitely _Clocks,_ while I pulled my old phone out.

"My name. My name's Santana."

"Oh! Wow, that's a nice name. it's really nice to officially meet you, _Santana."_ I grinned really wide, and then dropped my phone, because of _course_ I couldn't get through putting her number in without one final misstep, and bent down super awkwardly to pick it up. "Okay, shoot."

"It's 917-555-5123." I typed it quickly, then read it back, then immediately sent her a text so she had mine, the opening notes of some Amy Winehouse song I couldn't quite name tinkling through her speakers. "So, when should I expect you to call and ask me out?"

"First week of March, I'll be back. But, I mean, I've got satellite service while I'm there, so you can text me, or whatever. Is that weird, that I asked you on a date two months from now?"

"No weirder than any other part of this conversation. I've gotta run though, I've got a patient in twenty-minutes."

"You didn't even get what you needed!"

"I've got jeans and sweaters, I'm set for the lodge. I mostly just came to act interested in this trip, and for them." Her thumb points over to her two friends, who'd apparently been staring at us the whole time.

"Alright, as long as it wasn't my fault. Have fun not skiing."

"And you have fun in Wyoming, freezing your ass off out there." She cast her eyes down, and made some sort of noise of approval, which, of course, made me blush way more. "And good luck in Nepal."

"Thanks!" I smiled at her one last time, then just as she was turning away, I felt like I couldn't let her go without one more thing. "Hey, Santana?"

"Yeah, Britt?" It was fine, I was fine, I definitely didn't hyperventilate a little because she used a nickname.

"Just wanted to say happy New Year."

"Oh." That smile again. Those dimples. "Happy New Year to you too."


	2. Text Interlude

**Author's Note: Thank you ALL for your kind words. I'm so glad there's interest in this story! So because of Brittany's job and inability to stay in one place very long, between parts, I'll be posting some excerpts from her text message log as an interlude. Different than what I usually do, I know, but bear with me!**

* * *

 _Tengboche, Nepal_ _—Eastern Standard Time+Ten Hours, Forty-Five Minutes_

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [1/12/14 8:45:58AM]:** Just wanted to say hey! ;)

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [1/12/14 8:53:01AM]:** Hey world traveler! How's Nepal?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [1/12/14 9:21:11AM]:** Sorry. Didn't know I'd start work so soon. It's good. Cold. You'd hate it. How's NY?

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [1/12/14 9:21:58AM]:** Cold, hate it :P

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [1/12/12 9:22:41AM]:** _[IMAGE 23787 SENT]_

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [1/12/12 9:22:49AM]:** Proof I'm here, not shooting porn on the LES.

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [1/12/14 9:23:17AM]:** Or you're good at photoshop. Gorgeous pic.

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [1/12/14 9:23:32AM]:** Both parts.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [1/12/14 11:24:21AM]:** Good thing. Kinda my job.

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [1/12/14 9:26:16AM]:** Looking hot in a fur parka?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [1/12/14 9:27:01AM]:** :flushed: Are you flirting with me?

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [1/12/14 9:27:49AM]:** _[IMAGE 00345 SENT]_

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [1/12/14 9:28:00AM]:** Dunno. Am I?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [1/12/14 11:28:34AM]:** Nice PJs. Nice view.

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [1/12/14 9:29:22AM]:** View? There is no view.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [1/12/14 11:29:56AM]:** I meant mine. ;)

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [1/12/14 9:30:28AM]:** You're getting better at this, Pierce.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [1/12/14 9:30:52AM]:** Have time to think before I text. No verbal diarrhea.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [1/12/14 9:34:41AM]:** Did I go too far?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [1/12/14 9:37:38AM]:** Sorry. I'll avoid mentioning bodily functions.

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [1/12/14 9:39:26AM]:** No, totally wasn't you, sorry! Had to brush my teeth. Early patient tomorrow.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [1/12/14 9:40:03AM]:** Forgot about the time difference! I'll let you go. Talk soon?

* * *

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [1/12/14 9:40:31AM]:** Definitely! Night, Britt.

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [1/23/14 5:11:05AM]:** Hey you!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [1/23/14 5:11:51AM]:** Hi! How you doin'? :P

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [1/23/14 5:12:34AM]:** Are you Joey Tribbiani-ing me?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [1/23/14 5:13:10AM]:** Is it working?

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [1/23/14 5:13:51AM]:** I'm smiling like an idiot at my phone and the receptionist is looking at me like I'm nuts, so I guess so.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [1/23/14 5:14:17AM]:** Still at work?

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [1/23/14 5:15:13AM]:** Late night on Thursdays. One more to go!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [1/23/14 5:15:59AM]:** Big plans this weekend?

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [1/23/14 5:16:34AM]:** Absolutely nothing. Judge me if I tell you I'm going back upstate with 'Cedes and Lady Hummel next Sat?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [1/23/14 5:17:12AM]:** To *not* ski?

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [1/23/14 6:05:34AM]:** Sorry, patient came early! I'm done! Time for sushi and Top Chef!

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [1/23/14 6:05:58AM]:** And yes. She's really into this guy. Not sure why, he looks like he could swallow her head whole.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [1/23/14 6:06:51AM]:** No biggie! Having breakfast now anyway!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [1/23/14 6:06:59AM]:** Also, gross. You should try to ski though.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [1/23/14 6:07:03AM]:** Jealous of your plans. I miss all those things.

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [1/23/14 6:07:26AM]:** Never. Good martinis there though.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [1/23/14 6:08:14AM]:** Hmm, I'll keep that in mind if I ever make it back to the US.

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [1/23/14 6:08:47AM]:** You better, you promised me lunch!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [1/23/14 6:09:08AM]:** That's true, and I never break my promises.

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [1/23/14 6:09:19AM]:** Train's coming. Gonna lose you! Bye! :*

* * *

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [2/1/14 10:51:07PM]:** _[IMAGE 00376 SENT]_

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [2/1/14 10:53:34PM]:** Oh look, a martini, some snow, and a pretty lady who's not skiing.

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [2/1/14 10:54:07PM]:** Did you think I'd changed my mind? Been waiting all morning for it to be noon so I could order this.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [2/1/14 10:55:16PM]:** Isn't that why God invented mimosas?

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [2/1/14 10:55:59PM]:** You know about anthropology, you tell me. What are you doing?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [2/1/14 10:56:19PM]:** In bed. Long day :/

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [2/1/14 10:56:47PM]:** You okay?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [2/1/14 10:57:10PM]:** Yeah, I'm fine, don't worry! Just always get a little homesick at the three-week point, and I just FT'd T &M with Lord Tubbington so…

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [2/1/14 10:57:26PM]:** Sorry, don't want to bring down the mood. Glad you got your martini.

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [2/1/14 10:58:00PM]:** You're not, you can talk about whatever you want.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [2/1/14 10:58:29PM]:** I appreciate it. Like, a lot. I think I'm gonna call it a night though.

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [2/1/14 10:58:00PM]:** Okay. Feel better, Britt. Hope tomorrow is a better day! You'll be home soon!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [2/1/14 10:58:26PM]:** :)

* * *

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [2/2/14 8:34:34AM]:** Heading to bed, busy day of NOT skiing, but just wanted to wish you a better day today!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [2/2/14 8:36:28AM]:** Thanks! :D Sorry, was just really tired last night, I'm good.

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [2/2/14 8:37:03AM]:** Don't be sorry.

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [2/2/14 8:37:12AM]:** But I'm glad you're good ;)

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [2/2/14 8:37:59AM]:** Me too! Sweet dreams, Santana.

* * *

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [2/23/14 7:01:01AM]:** Guess who comes home next week?

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [2/23/14 7:24:38AM]:** Hmm. No idea.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [2/23/14 7:25:14AM]:** So lunch finally?

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [2/23/14 7:25:45AM]:** Can't wait!

* * *

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR-LOPEZ [2/28/14 12:47:32AM]:** Just got your e-mail. Are you okay?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [3/1/14 5:56:21AM]:** Mostly pissed off. I know I shouldn't be, no one's hurt, but the burst pipe wrecked three weeks worth of film. Have to reshoot, can't come home without it.

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR-LOPEZ [3/1/14 5:59:44AM]:** I'm so sorry! Will you get to come home at all?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [3/1/14 5:56:21AM]:** Maybe a few days? Have to be in Trinidad at the end of the month. I'm sorry I have to cancel on you.

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR-LOPEZ [3/1/14 5:57:00AM]:** Don't be sorry, work happens! We'll catch up.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [3/1/14 5:57:23AM]:** I hope so! Thanks for understanding.

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR-LOPEZ [3/1/14 5:57:49AM]:** Totally. Good luck!


	3. Part Two

**Author's Note: Again, thank you all so much for your excitement about this story! I know you're anxious for lots of Brittana, but this is a story about a series of missed connections that ends in a BIG way! Be patient, I promise they'll get their happy ending!**

 **Also, just a note on the last part. Thank you, to the guest that pointed out my mistake on the time, I went ahead and fixed that, but Santana WAS saying she had to go to bed for an early day of work, because while it was early in the day for Brittany, Nepal is ten hours and forty-five minutes ahead of the Eastern Time zone, so it was late at night for Santana!**

* * *

 **March 20, 2014**

 _New York, New York_ _—Eastern Standard Time_

I was home. Two weeks late, but I was actually back in my studio apartment with my hot, hot shower, my big soft bed, my old, worn out NYU sweats, and my giant fat cat sleeping by my head. Okay, so obviously, I complain about Tina Cohen-Chang a _lot,_ but really, she's kind of the best. Basically, I had a total and complete meltdown after a pipe burst in the home I was staying in, and it was total destruction. Look, I'm not trying to compare my first world struggles to some of the things other people experience, things I've seen firsthand, but I think it's fair for me to say that having weeks worth of irreplaceable work totally and completely destroyed three days before I was supposed to leave kind of sucks. No, actually it sucks big time, and I'd maybe cried about it for an hour over FaceTime with Tina, before she told me to get my shit together, take some more pictures, and get my ass back to the United States before my cat clawed one more piece of her furniture because he was pissed off at me.

 _Because_ of said meltdown, I came back home after three days of being crammed into tiny airplane seats to Lord Tubbington, already asleep in his spot on my bed, a bottle of pinot chilling in my refrigerator, and a paper bag full of sushi with a note from Tina written on the side, telling me to get some real sleep and to call her when I was a person again. It was pretty awesome of her, really, and _exactly_ what I'd needed. Without the mental capacity to do more than shove my face full of raw fish and down the _entire_ bottle of wine, I did as much, and then, with all of my crap still in the middle of the apartment, I took the world's longest shower, and passed out facedown on my bed. Two days probably passed before I woke up again, totally ravenous, and without even bothering to search for my cellphone or put a bra on, I brushed my teeth and stumbled out into New York spring.

I was desperate for pizza, and cheesecake, and pretty much any disgusting, but totally better in New York City than anywhere else in the world food I could get my hands on, and I ran around the supermarket like a madwoman, loading up my cart without even considering how I'd get any of it home. Really, you shouldn't shop when you're hungry, I'm not even kidding. I ended up with carrot jam in my cart. Carrot. Jam. I didn't even know that was a thing, but in my weird famished shopping spree, it seemed like the most delicious food in existence. I know, gross, I almost puked when I stuck a spoon in it.

When I finally paid for all of my weird things, I was _really_ glad that the cashier reminded me about home delivery, because it was absolutely worth every cent of the twelve-fifty it cost. Figuring I'd pick up the pizza—which I was going to eat all on my own, whatever—rather than wait for delivery, I basically sprinted down the street, dancing in my place at the corner, considering darting through traffic, rather than waiting for the light to turn, until—

"Brittany?" It was her voice, the voice I heard in my head in the hundreds and hundreds of text messages she'd sent me while I was in Nepal, and I whipped my head around, seeing that gorgeous face of hers. Being my usual creepy self, I stared for a moment, shocked to see Santana standing there, before I realized that of course, I was in my ratty old sweats, hair piled up on the top of my head, and no bra on. Classic. "Hey! You made it back!"

"I did! Sorry, I totally meant to text you as soon as I got in so we could maybe grab that lunch, but I just woke up from a sleep that Rip Van Winkle would be jealous of, and I'm pretty sure my phone is dead somewhere at the bottom of my suitcase." I pretty much spoke it all in one breath—she really had a weird effect on me, I'm not like this with most people, swear—and then smiled, trying to remind myself that this was the same person it was _so_ easy to text with all day. "Also, I could eat a large animal right now. I downed a bag of chips and two cans of almonds at Gristedes. Sorry, I'm doing that weird thing you make me do again where I just keep talking and talking until someone tells me to shut up. Let me start agin. _Hi, Santana,_ I didn't even know we lived in the same neighborhood."

"I actually live further west, on Bedford, but it's _impossible_ to find a good dry cleaner over there so…"

"I _obviously_ don't have that problem." Of course I awkwardly gestured to my pajamas, which made her laugh, and yup, it was still the sexiest laugh I'd ever heard-slash-seen.

"NYU, huh?"

"Yeah! Why, did you go too?"

"Columbia." She was kind of sheepish and sweet about it, I could tell, and though I would have typically felt the need to make a teasing comment about our uptown rival—with, I'll give it to them, a _much_ cooler mascot than the freaking _Violets—_ I didn't. "Eight years."

"Eight years? That's a _lot_ of college."

"I mean…I didn't want to be a medical doctor, but I _did_ get my DNP. I do pretty much the same thing, just without acting like Carlos Lopez, flaunting a title around."

"DNP?"

"Doctor of Nursing Practice."

"Whoa, what, time out, _not-a-doctor_ Lopez, you _are_ a doctor."

"Not a _doctor-doctor._ Trust me, still makes my dad insane that there's no MD after my name."

"Well I think it's really cool, Doctor Nurse Lopez."

"Thank you, Photographer Pierce." She laughed again, and I grinned at her teasing. "NYU suits you, as does this whole getup you've got on."

" _Sure."_ It was my turn to laugh, which totally made her laugh harder. Score! "Anyway, how are you? No patients this morning?"

"Ugh, no. Sorry, I forgot you've been off the grid for days now. Unique, the other NP in my practice, has the chicken pox, and she was supposed to present this thing at a medical conference at Cornell. Guess who volunteered to do it?"

"Well, since I don't know anyone else there, I'm going to guess you?"

" _And_ you'd be right. I'm leaving in an hour, I've gotta go get my dry cleaning, and the rental car, and—sorry, you are the _last_ person I should be complaining to about having to travel."

"Nah, it's fine." I shook my head, because duh, that phonebook thing was still true, and mostly, I was just _really_ happy to see her. If I didn't think it would make me look like a total nut, I probably would have dipped her and kissed her right there on the corner of Bleecker and West Broadway, like I was in a John Cusack movie or something. "When do you come back?"

"Late Tuesday night."

"Oh." I tried not to frown, I really did, but I knew I wasn't successful, because that _sucked._

"I know. You're only back until Wednesday morning." Yeah, so my heart skipped six or seven beats that she remembered when I was leaving again, no big deal. "Am I being the creepy one now, if I tell you that was the first thing I realized after I agreed to go?"

"That makes me happy. Not that you're going, but, like, I don't know…I felt like I missed you when I was gone—okay, hold on, let me just put my foot in my mouth for a sec and get back to you."

"No, don't." She smiled at me, and then she reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. And obviously, the goosebumps that erupted all over my body were _totally_ because my coat was open and it was still kind of cold out. "Maybe you're rubbing off on me with your _verbal diarrhea_ , but I know exactly what you're talking about."

"Do you maybe gave time to grab a slice of pizza? I mean, it's totally not what I was planning, but it's better than nothing, no?"

"I—" She pulled her lip between her teeth—sexy as fuck, I know—like she was considering, and I shook my head.

"Forget it, sorry I asked. You just said you've got stuff to do."

"No, no, don't be sorry. I know you're starving and probably have a hundred things to do too, but if you wanted, we could walk and eat."

"Yes!" Okay, let's just pretend that I hesitated for a quarter of a second, and _didn't_ shout it, fair?Good, so now that we're on the same page, her eyebrows totally raised, and she laughed _again._ I was at least good at making her laugh, even if I was _not_ good at avoiding making a fool of myself.

"So I'll have what you're having then?" She smirked, which, duh, made me blush, because I _really_ wished what I was having was _her,_ but since circumstances didn't allow for that...

"Dollar pizza slices then?"

"Alright, high roller, let's go."

While we walked the half-a-block to the pizzeria, I tried to kind of smooth out my hair, and remember how long it had been since I'd taken a shower. Don't get me wrong, I was _thrilled_ to see Santana, but really, it was a miracle she'd agreed to even be seen with me looking as I did, with her looking as _she_ did. Sweater and skinny jeans? Knee high boots? Super shiny hair in casual French braids? Yeah, I was totally fine. Totally.

"You okay?" She cocked her head to the side, and I nodded rapidly, before grabbing the door to let her into the restaurant—is it even called a restaurant when there's a four foot standing space, and a guy hands out pizza on paper plates? I don't know, but it probably doesn't matter…

"Yeah, totally. After you."

"So chivalrous." Santana threw a wink over her shoulder, and had the universe _not_ been watching out for me, I probably would have lost my grip on the door and closed her in it. "Thank you."

"God, I missed pizza so much. So, forgive me if I start drooling while we wait."

"You're kind of even cuter than I remembered." Her fingers grazed my arm, really smooth like, and I blushed again, of course. "That must suck though, being in places where you can't get exactly what you want."

"Yes and no. I mean, I've been super lucky with the people I've worked with and their hospitality. I end up eating a lot of granola bars, because I'm out in the field most of the day, but I've also been able to have food that I'd _never_ get here."

"How's the food in Nepal?"

"Oh, man, I had this stuff, _tsampa_. I have to see if I can find a Nepalese restaurant here, because I'm going to need it again someday. But honestly, for now, I'm getting my noodle fix from like sixteen boxes of Kraft macaroni and cheese that I bought."

"How worldly of you."

"Just tastes like home." I nodded to the pizza guy behind the counter, and Santana nodded her thanks as I handed her the first slice. "I guess I just try to soak up as much of it as I can in a short period of time."

"How often are you actually home?"

"God, I swear I lose count sometimes of where I am and for how long. I was in seventeen countries last year, considering there are only twelve months in the year, and I visited my parents in Boulder for Thanksgiving and then went to Wyoming for the New Year, I was here in New York for...approximately negative sixteen days."

"That bad, huh?" Her face was sympathetic, and I kind of expected her to run right out the door. After all, we were flirty on our texts, and _she_ was flirty in person, while I mostly tried to keep from saying something dumb, history told me that my job was kind of a turnoff for people who may or may not been interested in me. Thank God—well, maybe not God, people might get kind of offended by that—for casual sex. Lifesaver, really.

"Is it dumb if I say I feel the most bad for my cat? I've had him since college, when I didn't really know this was what I was going to be doing with my life, and I love him too much to give him up for good."

"I don't thank that's dumb, it's always nice to have someone to come home to. I think about it sometimes, but I'd probably get annoyed by it after a day, and I don't want to be _that_ person who brings it back."

"I can respect that. He's a really good cat. He probably needs a diet, but Tina can't handle his whining, so she gives in."

"He always stays with her and the guy she's marrying?"

"Yeah, they're like...my people here. Even though she doesn't like him, she lets him stay so I don't worry about it. Anyway, sorry, I'm like a crazy cat lady right now. Tell me about you, what have I missed?"

"Not much, I feel like we were texting so much, it's not possible you don't know everything that went on in my life."

"Well...I...um." Cue the dopiest grin in the world. I'm sorry, alright? I just really had a crush on this girl, and she made my heart flutter when she said things like that. "That's kind of cool."

"Magic technology." When she wiggled her fingers, my eyes maybe went wide, and my thoughts slid toward the dirty end of the spectrum, but I dialed it back quickly, glad for the distraction of paying for the pizza, and taking a huge, grease dribbling down my chin bite before we even walked out the door.

"Ohmygof. Thogood."

"Britt, you've got—" Santana didn't hesitate to lean over and just wipe my chin with her napkin. As you can imagine, I got all kinds of electric shocks. Remember that song from _Love, Actually,_ the one he has to convert to the Christmas song? _I feel it in my fingers, I feel it in my toes?_ Yeah, so that was apparently an actual thing, and I mentally fist pumped at my ability to _not_ physically jolt from it—especially since we all know I probably would have dropped my pizza on her nice sweater. "Sorry, you probably could have done that yourself."

"Thanks." I shrugged it off, but I totally let my fingers graze her retreating hand. Hopefully it looked smooth, not, like, _ET phone home_ or anything. "Got a little carried away."

"As long as you're enjoying it." She took a big bite of hers. "It is good though."

"Right? God, I should have got like twelve pieces. Also, I swear, I don't usually eat like an animal, at least not in front of other people."

"You're something else, Brittany Pierce." She paused, making me totally nervous—as if I needed something more to be nervous about, I was already struggling to walk a straight line and stuff. "It's really refreshing, I like it."

We were really quiet the rest of the walk to the dry cleaners. Maybe it sounds weird, because we had twenty minutes to spend together before we wouldn't be in the same place for at _least_ two months, but I don't know, the silence was really nice. Because we text messaged so much—I knew everything that went on in her life, did you hear that one?—it didn't feel like there was some kind of urgency to rush words out. Instead, I was enjoying her presence, the smell of Chloe that came off of her, which, I was sorry for _her_ that she was not getting a similarly good smell from _me,_ the click of her boot heels on the sidewalk. Little things like that. It was weird, I guess, because it's not like we were dating, but still, from across the world, even talking to her every day, I didn't get to experience that, and I kinda sorta loved it.

When Santana stopped, and I looked up from the last crumbs of my pizza crust and realized we were already there, I felt this weird sort of sinking in my chest. It felt really dumb, because even having these twenty minutes was pure luck, but still. I was doing a huge series on the architectural history of the Caribbean, and was basically bouncing from island to island—no, my it would _not be_ a huge vacation, contrary to what Tina likes to say about it, I'd be lucky if I even had time to sit on the beach for an hour—until the middle of _June._ It was a really long stretch of time away from home, even for me, and as lame as it sounded, given the lack of time I'd actually spent with Santana, I felt pretty bummed that we wouldn't have the opportunity to see each other again for more than two months.

"So this is where you're going, huh?"

"Yup, this is the place." She nodded, kind of slow, before her nose scrunched up. "I'm really glad we got to at least spend a _few_ minutes together."

"Yeah, me too. Like, really glad. I'm sorry I'm not in town longer."

"I'm sorry I've got to go to Cornell. If it were for anyone else…"

"No, no, you, uh, know that I get it, totally. We're just gonna have to make this date really worth it when I get back, right?"

"Absolutely." Her laugh, would it be completely inappropriate to record it and set it as my text tone of every one of her messages? Probably, and it would probably be pretty disturbing at work…but still, it would have been a total bright spot. "Thanks for the pizza."

"You're welcome. I mean, I'm probably going to go on the way home and get another slice…"

"I think you should. You really enjoyed that a lot. I wish I had time to go back with you too."

"Yeah…me too." Oh my God I was so annoyed with myself for having so many feelings in the pit of my stomach, and if I started to cry…

"Hey, Britt." She put her hand on my arm again, and squeezed, before pressing her lips to my cheek and just letting them linger there, tingle the skin, make me feel one-hundred percent lightheaded and dizzy. "I'll text you when I get to Ithaca, okay?"

"You better. I need someone to entertain me while I eat my body weight in disgusting processed food."

"I think I can handle that. Goodbye, Brittany."

"Bye, Santana." I took a deep breath, one that reminded me to cut the melodrama immediately, or quit my day job to audition for a freaking Lifetime movie. "I'll see you in June."


	4. Text Interlude Two

**Author's Note: Another (not so) little text interlude for you. This time, I put the cities that Brittany is in, and their time difference from New York, where Santana is. Hope that's helpful! Once again, thank you all for reading! So glad you're enjoying their journey!**

* * *

 _New York, New York—Eastern Standard Time_

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [3/20/14 4:19:35PM]:** _[IMAGE 00498 SENT]_

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [3/20/14 4:19:45PM]:** I have arrived at VaginaCon.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [3/20/14 4:21:52PM]:** Is that a giant plastic vagina?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [3/20/14 4:22:08PM]:** Is it really called VaginaCon?

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [3/20/14 4:23:12PM]:** Silicon, but yeah, totally giant.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [3/20/14 4:23:19PM]:** We call it that, meaning, me and Unique. The official name is the Pelvic Anatomy and Gynecological Medicine Symposium.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [3/20/14 4:23:41PM]:** Fancy.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [3/20/14 4:24:10PM]:** Totally, I'm ordering room service and eating it in my amazing bed tonight.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [3/20/14 4:24:59PM]:** Funny, I'm totally eating in my bed tonight too. And maybe right now.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [3/20/14 4:25:17PM]:** Mac & cheese?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [3/20/14 4:25:46PM]:** You know it!

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [3/20/14 4:26:20PM]:** How many boxes have you had so far?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [3/20/14 4:27:33PM]:** Just one

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [3/20/14 4:27:39PM]:** …plus another one.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [3/20/14 4:27:46PM]:** #winning

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [3/20/14 4:28:31PM]:** Did you just hashtag a text?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [3/20/14 4:29:07PM]:** You know it! (again)

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [3/20/14 4:29:57PM]:** #dork ;P

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [3/20/14 4:30:19PM]:** _[IMAGE 24794 SENT]_

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [3/20/14 4:31:01PM]:** Did you really just send me a Stephanie Tanner gif? Britt, you're making me laugh out loud in the hotel lobby.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [3/20/14 4:31:48PM]:** _[IMAGE 24795 SENT]_

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [3/20/14 4:32:26PM]:** One, do you just have all of these random gifs saved on your phone?

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [3/20/14 4:32:39PM]:** Two, I really do believe you're giving yourself a Barney Stinson self-five right now.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [3/20/14 4:33:47PM]:** Duh, I obviously am.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [3/20/14 4:34:03PM]:** And these I didn't, but NOW I do! :D

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [3/20/14 4:34:54PM]:** You're too much.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [3/20/14 4:35:08PM]:** As much as I'd love to continue this, I've gotta go check in with the conference board.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [3/20/14 4:35:39PM]:** And polish your stethoscope?

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [3/20/14 4:36:23PM]:** Of course.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [3/20/14 4:37:04PM]:** _[IMAGE 24796 SENT]_

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [3/20/14 4:37:52PM]:** Did you really just Bye Felicia me?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [3/20/14 4:38:15PM]:** :,D Bye Santana. Have fun at VaginaCon.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [3/20/14 4:39:00PM]:** Will do! Have fun drowning in bright orange cheese!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [3/20/14 4:39:36PM]:** Totally. Maybe I'll get enough points for a new Cheesasaurus Rex shirt!

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [3/20/14 4:40:11PM]:** Don't think they make them anymore, but good luck!

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [3/25/14 11:48:16PM]:** I'm sure you're sleeping for your early flight, but you told me to text you when I got home. So, I'm home.

* * *

 _Piarco, Republic of Trinidad and Tobago—EST+One Hour_

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [3/26/14 1:15:28PM]:** _[IMAGE 24886 SENT]_

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [3/26/14 1:15:51PM]:** Instead of posting a gratuitous wing shot on my Insta, I'll send it to you instead. Just landed.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [3/26/14 1:53:28PM]:** Sorry, had a patient! Glad you're there safe! Jealous you're in the sun.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [3/26/14 1:53:57PM]:** _[IMAGE 00512 SENT]_

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [3/26/14 1:54:06PM]:** Still raining here :(

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [3/26/14 1:55:37PM]:** I see nothing but the cute lab coat.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [3/26/14 1:56:07PM]:** …oh.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [3/26/14 1:56:41PM]:**?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [3/26/14 1:57:04PM]:** Also the girl IN the coat. Excellent model.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [3/26/14 1:57:29PM]:** Smooth.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [3/26/14 1:57:53PM]:** Really?

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [3/26/14 1:58:27PM]:** Completely.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [3/26/14 1:58:49PM]:** Score! ;)

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [3/26/14 2:01:34PM]:** So I don't get a selfie back?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [3/26/14 2:02:51PM]:** _[IMAGE 24897 SENT]_

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [3/26/14 2:03:12PM]:** Welcome to Trinidad and Tobago...or at least the baggage claim!

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [3/26/14 2:05:17PM]:** I wish!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [3/26/14 2:05:29PM]:** Yeah

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [3/26/14 2:09:58PM]:** Me too.

* * *

 _Rio Claro, Republic of Trinidad and Tobago—EST+One Hour_

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [4/2/14 6:37:17AM]:** _[IMAGE 00522 SENT]_

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [4/2/14 6:37:26AM]:** Two straight weeks of rain, and that snow pile on Hudson STILL hasn't melted.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [4/2/14 7:11:59AM]:** _[IMAGE 24985 SENT]_

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [4/2/14 7:12:38AM]:** I should have saved that Full House gif you sent me.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [4/2/14 7:13:21AM]:** Sorry slash not sorry.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [4/2/14 7:13:56AM]:** SO RUDE!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [4/2/14 7:14:38AM]:** It's a great view, but I haven't even had my toes in the sand, and I WON'T. Flight is in three hours and haven't packed yet :|

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [4/2/14 7:15:43AM]:** Uh-oh! Maybe you'll have better luck in the DR?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [4/2/14 7:17:14AM]:** It's a good thing I'm not talking out loud :blush:

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [4/2/14 7:18:02AM]:** What?

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [4/2/14 7:19:47AM:** Oh!

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [4/2/14 7:20:38AM]:** …wanky.

* * *

 _San Pedro de Macorís, Dominican Republic—EST+One Hour_

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [4/11/14 11:31:34AM]:** Guess who finally took a day off?

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [4/11/14 11:37:56AM]:** It can't be you, I don't think you're capable.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [4/11/14 11:38:45AM]:** _[IMAGE 25012 SENT]_

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [4/11/14 11:39:00AM]:** My actual feet in the actual sea!

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [4/11/14 11:39:56AM]:** I'm amazed. Also jealous.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [4/11/14 11:40:17AM]:** Are those music notes on the inside of your foot?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [4/11/14 11:42:02AM]:** Yup, 18th birthday special. I was in CAS hoping to get a spot at Tisch. Thought I'd be a professional dancer, then I fell in love with photography.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [4/11/14 11:42:02AM]:** I have an aperture scale on my wrist, so both the past and the future.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [4/11/14 11:42:31AM]:** _[IMAGE 25013 SENT]_

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [4/11/14 11:43:54AM]:** I love that one too.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [4/11/14 11:45:12AM]:** What about you?

 **FROM: NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [4/11/14 11:45:59AM]:** Tattoos? No. Don't tell anyone, but I'm afraid of needles.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [4/11/14 11:46:19AM]:** Don't you GIVE needles?

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [4/11/14 12:17:33PM]:** Yes, that's why it's a secret.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [4/11/14 12:18:01PM]:** Also, hi, sorry, back. Another patient.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [4/11/14 12:18:48PM]:** Hi! Phew! Thought you were on your way to kill me.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [4/11/14 12:21:08PM]:** Wait, what?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [4/11/14 12:21:56PM]:** Duh, because you told me your secret.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [4/11/14 12:22:37PM]:** If I was getting on a plane to the Dominican Republic right now, it wouldn't be to kill you.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [4/11/14 12:23:40PM]:** The beach IS pretty gorgeous.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [4/11/14 12:25:19PM]:** So's the photographer on it.

* * *

 _Majaut, Dominica—EST+One Hour_

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [4/19/14 12:02:06AM]:** Hi.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [4/19/14 12:03:40AM]:** Hi.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [4/19/14 12:03:53AM]:** It's late, are you okay?

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [4/19/14 12:04:38AM]:** Oh, yeah, yeah, totally. I was just up and thought you might be too.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [4/19/14 12:05:00AM]:** I know you said the third week is hard for you, and I forgot to ask you before now how you're doing.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [4/19/14 12:06:31AM]:** You've got me speechless.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [4/19/14 12:07:12AM]:** Why?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [4/19/14 12:07:49AM]:** I was laying up feeling kind of bummed.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [4/19/14 12:07:58AM]:** Seeing it was you totally cheered me up.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [4/19/14 12:08:19AM]:** Thank you.

* * *

 _Sandy Ground, Anguilla—EST+One Hour_

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [4/30/14 3:21:15AM]:** Do you believe in fate?

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [4/30/14 6:02:07AM]:** Morning, Britt.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [4/30/14 6:02:29AM]:** Is this the kind of thing you lie awake thinking about at night?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [4/30/14 6:04:34AM]:** LOL no, I was actually up.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [4/30/14 6:04:52AM]:** Wanted to get some shots of the fishing boats going out.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [4/30/14 6:05:17AM]:** But do you?

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [4/30/14 6:07:12AM]:** No, I don't think so.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [4/30/14 6:07:43AM]:** Seems a little…dangerous to me.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [4/30/14 6:08:11AM]:** Believing in fate?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [4/30/14 6:08:26AM]:** Why?

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [4/30/14 6:09:33AM]:** Not believing in it, fate itself.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [4/30/14 6:09:54AM]:** Letting something else control your life.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [4/30/14 6:10:18AM]:** I'd rather believe I'm the one in charge of what happens to me.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [4/30/14 6:12:41AM]:** Hmm…

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [4/30/14 6:14:10AM]:** So I guess you do?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [4/30/14 6:14:38AM]:** Absolutely.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [4/30/14 6:14:59AM]:** Always.

* * *

 _Willemstad, Curaçao—EST+One Hour_

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [5/4/14 2:48:06PM]:** I was thinking.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [5/4/14 3:36:01PM]:** About?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [5/4/14 3:43:12PM]:** I told you what I wanted to do before I came a photographer, did you always want to go into medicine?

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [5/4/14 3:44:08PM]:** You don't even know how hard I tried not to.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [5/4/14 3:44:56PM]:** Can I ask why?

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [5/4/14 3:45:23PM]:** Totally. It's not really a big deal or anything, it was just what was expected of me. I really wanted to rebel against that.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [5/4/14 3:45:48PM]:** Turns out, I'm a rule follower.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [5/4/14 3:45:23PM]:** But I knew by going into my field, I wouldn't have to worry about surgeries or other BS. I could spend more time educating people on safe sex and disease prevention, stuff like that, more of the preventative side, in addition to the curative.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [5/4/14 3:45:48PM]:** Sorry for the long text, I could talk about this for a long time. I really love what I do.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [5/4/14 3:46:34PM]:** Don't apologize. I asked because I wanted to know.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [5/4/14 3:47:09PM]:** Also, I think that's pretty amazing.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [5/4/14 3:47:43PM]:** Thank you :blush: I'm pretty proud of myself for it.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [5/4/14 3:48:13PM]:** You should be, Dr. Not-a-Doctor Lopez.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [5/4/14 3:49:17PM]:** You're gonna call me that forever, huh?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [5/4/14 3:49:57PM]:** _[IMAGE 25177 SENT]_

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [5/4/14 3:50:33PM]:** That's really how I'm in your phone? :,D

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [5/4/14 3:52:14PM]:** Duh. I added the Dr. after you told me that.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [5/4/14 3:52:51PM]:** It's been awhile since I've told you that you're cute.

* * *

 _Gouyave, Grenada—EST+One Hour_

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [5/17/14 8:22:31PM]:** _[IMAGE 15213 SENT]_

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [5/17/14 8:22:47PM]:** Another week, another passport stamp!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [5/17/14 8:22:59PM]:** Hello from Grenada!

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [5/17/14 8:24:54PM]:** _[IMAGE 0613 SENT]_

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [5/17/14 8:25:16PM]:** Hello from Lady Hummel's living room!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [5/17/14 8:25:52PM]:** Swanky!

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [5/17/14 8:26:41PM]:** Shh, don't tell him that, it'll go to his head.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [5/17/14 8:27:34PM]:** He's making fun of me right now?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [5/17/14 8:28:12PM]:** :( Why?

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [5/17/14 8:29:31PM]:** Because I'm smiling at my phone, and he knows it's you.

* * *

 _Saint-Pierre, Martinique—EST+One Hour_

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [5/28/14 4:12:17PM]:** So…um

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [5/28/14 4:12:45PM]:** I kind of totally forgot that I rented a beach house next month.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [5/28/14 5:03:26PM]:** What? How did you forget that?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [5/28/14 5:19:12PM]:** I mostly just write Tina checks for things we do, since I'm never around to plan them.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [5/28/14 5:19:33PM]:** Dumbest idea. Why did I think I wanted to spend my two weeks at home NOT home?

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [5/28/14 5:20:21PM]:** Maybe so you could actually RELAX on a beach?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [5/28/14 5:20:58PM]:** I guess. But I then won't be in the city…

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [5/28/14 5:20:21PM]:** Oh…

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [5/28/14 5:21:01PM]:** Oh.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [5/28/14 5:21:42PM]:** Yeah. I don't even like the East Hampton, or the Hamptons at all really, but like…I saw Tina and Mike for dinner once when I was home last time, and they got a house that allows pets so I can bring Lord Tubbington…

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [5/28/14 5:22:23PM]:** Oh! East Hampton?

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [5/28/14 5:22:51PM]:** So…my parents have a house in Sagaponack. Cedes and Hummel have been bugging me about what week we're going to go this year.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [5/28/14 5:23:09PM]:** And I maybe didn't pick one because I wanted to be around when you were around…

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [5/28/14 5:23:34PM]:** But I guess I've got my week now!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [5/28/14 5:23:58PM]:** Oh. Okay. So I guess I'll see you in the fall then? :(

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [5/28/14 5:24:17PM]:** No! Britt, Sagaponack is less than fifteen minutes from EH. Maybe more in the summer, but still!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [5/28/14 5:24:39PM]:** Oh! Yay!

* * *

 _Kingston, Jamaica—Eastern Standard Time_

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [6/2/14 2:24:36PM]:** _[IMAGE 15298 SENT]_

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [6/2/14 2:24:57PM]:** Since I'm doing some developing today and was really proud of this one...

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [6/2/14 2:25:18PM]:** You were the first person I thought about sharing it with.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [6/2/14 2:49:03PM]:** WOW!

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [6/2/14 2:49:37PM]:** That's incredible! Tell me about it please?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [6/2/14 2:51:16PM]:** I really love that you said that instead of asking me what it is.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [6/2/14 2:51:59PM]:** It's the tower of an old prison in Kingston.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [6/2/14 2:52:21PM]:** I got really lucky getting there when I did, just as the sun was coming up and hit the stone like that.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [6/2/14 2:53:44PM]:** I think it's a lot more than luck.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [6/2/14 2:54:13PM]:** You're so talented, Britt.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [6/2/14 2:54:46]:** Like, really. I'm so impressed with that.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [6/2/14 2:55:02]:** I can't wait to see more of your work.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [6/2/14 2:55:58PM]:** Do you maybe want the link to my website?

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [6/2/14 2:57:17PM]:** Are you kidding me? You're holding out on me Pierce! Of course I do!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [6/2/14 2:59:04PM]:** Just e-mailed it :blush:

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [6/2/14 3:03:20PM]:** I'm excited! Also, so cool you still use real film!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [6/2/14 3:07:45PM]:** I do some digital too.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [6/2/14 3:08:12PM]:** But I like developing and watching the pictures come to life.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [6/2/14 3:09:29PM]:** Amazing!

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [6/2/14 3:09:46PM]:** Looking at your children of the world pictures right now.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [6/2/14 3:10:23PM]:** Oh God. That was my first real assignment.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [6/2/14 3:11:08PM]:** Can't talk to you while you're doing that.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [6/2/14 3:12:47PM]:** Stop! They're amazing!

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [6/2/14 3:14:31PM]:** Britt?

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [6/2/14 3:15:57PM]:** Britt?

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [6/2/14 3:18:29PM]:** Brittany?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [6/2/14 3:22:14PM]:** Are you still looking?

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [6/2/14 3:23:03PM]:**...yes?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [6/2/14 3:25:16PM]:** Talk to you later!

* * *

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [6/4/14 5:58:21AM]:** Do you like boats?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [6/4/14 6:17:42PM]:** Uh? Sure?

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [6/4/14 6:33:57AM]:** Okay, good.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [6/4/14 6:35:09AM]:** Do I get to know why you asked?

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [6/4/14 6:37:28AM]:** Is a first date picnic on a boat something you might be interested in?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [6/4/14 6:39:12AM]:** That sounds freaking awesome.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [6/4/14 6:39:43AM]:** Do you just have a boat lying around or something?

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [6/4/14 6:44:16AM]:** I mean, I don't, but my dad does.

* * *

 _Brades, Montserrat—EST+One Hour_

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [6/7/14 9:02:13AM]:** _[IMAGE 0701 SENT]_

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [6/7/14 9:02:37AM]:** Look what I found!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [6/7/14 9:13:34AM]:** You found it!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [6/7/14 9:13:39AM]:** You bought it!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [6/7/14 9:13:51AM]:** That is not your apartment!

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [6/7/14 9:15:31AM]:** I did!

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [6/7/14 9:15:59AM]:** And no it's not, it's the waiting room in my office.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [6/7/14 9:16:21AM]:** Bought two copies, figured I'd class up the place a little.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [6/7/14 9:16:38AM]:** Slip Discover right in between US Weekly and Star.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [6/7/14 9:16:58AM]:** :| You weren't kidding about reading trash.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [6/7/14 9:18:13AM]:** Hey, I do serious medical things all day, sometimes I need a break.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [6/7/14 9:18:45AM]:** Also, my coffee table at home has the last three issues of The American Journal of Obstetrics and Gynecology sitting on it.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [6/7/14 9:19:03AM]:** And only ONE issue of Life and Style I brought home from the office :P

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [6/7/14 9:19:34AM]:** You're too much.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [6/7/14 9:19:59AM]:** So…

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [6/7/14 9:20:21AM]:** What did you think?

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [6/7/14 9:21:17AM]:** What do you THINK?

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [6/7/14 9:21:44AM]:** Incredible.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [6/7/14 9:22:09AM]:** And kind of even more so because it was finally getting to see what you did there for all those months.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [6/7/14 9:22:46AM]:** Yeah, that's the part I like too. When they're all in print, and it feels like of the thousands of pictures I take, a few of them are worth something.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [6/7/14 9:23:01AM]:** I'll get that Pulitzer someday!

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [6/7/14 9:23:48AM]:** I have no doubt.

* * *

 _Bridgetown, Barbados—EST+One Hour_

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [6/22/14 5:06:17AM]:** My bags are packed I'm ready to go I'm standing—

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [6/22/14 5:06:25AM]:** Oh wait!

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [6/22/14 6:48:03AM]:** Haha! Morning, Britt.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [6/22/14 6:48:21AM]:** Make it to the airport?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [6/22/14 6:57:05AM]:** Just got through security.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [6/22/14 6:57:13AM]:** Getting the biggest cup of coffee in the world.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [6/22/14 6:57:42AM]:** Hold on.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [6/22/14 7:04:28AM]:** _[IMAGE 15399 SENT]_

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [6/7/14 7:07:50AM]:** You weren't kidding!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [6/22/14 7:08:17AM]:** About coffee? NEVER.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [6/22/14 7:08:23AM]:** I'm going to hit my bed so hard when I get home.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [6/22/14 7:08:58AM]:** Probably won't wake up until Wednesday!

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [6/22/14 7:09:41AM]:** I don't blame you.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [6/22/14 7:10:02AM]:** Can't wait to see you though!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [6/22/14 7:10:46AM]:** Only a few more days!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [6/22/14 7:13:09AM]:** Boarding! Goodbye Barbados, hello New York!


	5. Part Three

**Author's Note: Thank you all AGAIN for the love you're showing for this story, it's amazing, and so, so appreciated!**

* * *

 _ **June 29th-July 4th, 2014**_

 _New York, New York & East Hampton, New York, USA—Eastern Standard Time_

Miraculously, I'd made it back from the Caribbean without error. No damaged film, no broken limbs—the worst of my travel experiences was two years ago, when I'd made it through a three month stint in the southern part of the African continent, only to trip over someone's bag in JFK and break my arm—not even a single delay. When my plane landed twenty-five minutes early, I'd actually checked my watch no less than seventeen times, trying to make sure I hadn't been transported to the Twilight Zone or something.

Look, I was never super patriotic or anything, I mean, my parents are crazy hippies who smoke a lot of weed, I don't even think they _own_ an American flag, but I'm not kidding when I tell you that there's this weird thrill I get when I stand on line for customs in John F. Kennedy International Airport with my American passport. Coming home is like...I don't know, such a _relief_ for me. Though I spend less time in my apartment than any other person in the world probably, and I _love_ my job, the familiarity of being back in the United States is something I can't explain. Tina says I take way too many assignments and need to slow down before I drop dead of exhaustion in some country she's never heard of, and she has to come bring my body back home—she's morbid, just get used to it, I had to—and though I've never not loved it, I do have to admit that maybe I need some better roots. Maybe in twenty-fifteen, maybe if I have a _reason_ to put down some roots, I'll just do it, I'll spend more than a week at a time in my city. And yeah, maybe I checked my phone when I'd thought of that, just to see if some gorgeous nurse practitioner had texted me while I was on the plane. Sue me.

Speaking of nurse practitioners, mine—okay, not mine, but she kind of...felt like mine?—was working late all week because of the holiday. I think maybe she was as much of a workaholic as me, because I'm pretty sure she could have pushed some to next week, since despite her original plans, she was only able to go out to the beach for the weekend. But she'd said she wanted to make sure she had more time for them, just in case there was something urgent. Maybe I swooned a little at that. Maybe. What? It's _really_ sweet when you think about it, no? She genuinely cared about the people she treated. _And,_ get this, because I'm going to gush about her, and you can just deal with it. I'd sort of needled her to tell me more about her practice, and as it turns out, she and Unique had been working together at a clinic for awhile, and they were seeing some marginalized patients getting less than stellar healthcare, and after they'd staged a walkout to protest it, Santana called up her father for some money, and they'd opened up their own practice, one that looks super fancy so they get lots of higher end patients who help cover the cost of the ones they treat pro-bono. If all you got out of that story is that Santana's parents are wealthy enough that they could just hand over a _lot_ of money for her to open a practice, check yourself. The _actual_ point was, she has a giant, generous heart, and my crush on her was the biggest and the dumbest.

After I'd finished kissing the ground at the airport, not literally, this time—okay, I'd only done it once but that was after I'd spend six months on a kibbutz in Israel, and at least I'd kissed the ground and not the guy who'd handed me my first BLT—I went to pick up Lord Tubbington from Tina and Mike's. They were out to dinner with Mike's mother in Brooklyn, something Tina had sent a a four thousand word e-mail complaining about, since apparently there were more than a few disagreements about the wedding, and as much as I looked forward to seeing them _eventually,_ I was glad that eventually wasn't _immediately._ So I got Lord Tubbington, kissing him and hugging him for longer than was really comfortable for either of us, and in the waiting cab, I went home, shooting Santana a quick text to let her know that I'd arrived, before inhaling one of the four remaining boxes of macaroni and cheese and promptly stripping of my clothes and crashing.

My four days at home went _way_ too fast, especially considering that I had to unpack, pack for the trip to the beach, and then pack for three-and-a-half months in Europe. Thanks to Anthony Bourdain and company, food photography was _huge,_ and though I wasn't focusing on the food itself, I'd spend my time there exploring cultural food rituals and family ties to regional specialities, and mostly stuffing my face while I did it. But it was three whole months. Those long stints away never got under my skin like they were starting to, and I knew it was one if my more ridiculous thoughts, saying a _lot_ coming from me, but my mind kept going to Santana, and what she did while I was gone. Okay, okay, I was really wondering _who_ she did while I was gone, I can't even lie, and I didn't even have a right to wonder that. We weren't a _thing,_ obviously we weren't a thing, we'd spend all of twenty minutes together, but it was kind of crazy how much I _wanted_ us to be, how unsettled I felt that she could become involved with someone else, and I just didn't know how her and I would happen if we'd get at _best_ a few days to spend together before I'd be gone again until Halloween. I guessed I'd just have to make the most of it.

Speaking of making the most of it, on the second day home, I went for my annual exam. No, absolutely _not_ to Santana's office! That would be creepy, Creepy with a capital- _C._ I was _not_ trying to have the first time Santana Lopez saw my vagina be with my legs spread open on a table, at least not a _medical_ table. I went to my regular doctor—whom, funnily enough, was _also_ not a doctor, but a physician's assistant, which I'd totally never known—and got everything all checked out. No weird vagina things, no STDs, no anything that would turn me into the next Artie Abrams, postponing my first date because my vagina was not in full working order. Okay, so everyone made fun of Artie for planning the date around his sexual well being, but listen, I wasn't saying we were _going_ to have sex, I just wasn't counting it _out_ —if had been a long six months of flirty texting, alright?—and since Santana was clearly the pinnacle of sexual health, I was going to make sure I was too. Just in case.

So with my vagina in fantastic working order, and my crap _still_ not packed for Europe, I ended up staying up obscenely late the night before we left for the beach. Luckily—for me, at least, maybe not for Santana, who had one more day of patients—Santana stayed up texting me until two-am, when she knew she would be a mess in the morning if she didn't get _some_ sleep, and I only had two hours alone, talking to Lord Tubbington like the crazy cat lady I am, before falling asleep on the couch somewhere after four-thirty.

Needless to say, when my phone rang over and over again at six-fifteen, I was _not_ a happy human being. Wedged in the back seat of Tina's MiniCooper with Tubb's crate and two suitcases, it was impossible to go back to sleep _at all_ on the drive, and instead, I chugged coffee out of the oversized Thermos that Mike handed me, and in between exhausted grumbles, filled my friends in on my trip, and listened to Tina list off the seven- _thousand_ things I had to help with for the Cohen-Chang-Chang wedding.

After being dragged through three grocery stores, packed to the gills on the day before the Fourth of July with people I wouldn't choose to interact with even in the city, I was as good as toast. Once I'd helped put the groceries in the fridge, dropped my bags in the bedroom I claimed, and fed Lord Tubbington, I grabbed my bag and walked straight out to the beach. I was sure Tina would come find me and talk my ear off in t-minus eleven seconds, but I figured I could snap a few shots—even on vacation, I just couldn't help myself—put my headphones in, and maybe be asleep before that happened. I'd barely sat down on the towel when I heard the familiar chime of my phone ringing, and expecting it to be Tina trying to fin

me—I was seven-hundred yards from the house, _really,_ it wasn't a mystery—my heart jumped straight to my throat when I saw Santana's name and the selfie she'd sent me in her lab coat flash across the screen.

"Hello?" I was nervous answering, both because we'd never spoken on the phone before and I hoped nothing was wrong, and because the potential for my awkward comments on the phone was _way_ greater than through text messages.

 _'Hey, Britt!'_

"Uh, hi, Santana. Is everything okay?"

 _'Yeah, yeah, totally. Why? Is there a reason it shouldn't?'_

"No, not at all. Sorry." I stuck my tongue out is some weird attempt to loosen it. Has anyone ever been as tongue tied as me around another human? Probably _not._ But like, everyone can just go ahead and take a look at her. That's it, that's all they need to do to understand. "We just never talked on the phone before."

 _'I know, it's weird, right?'_ Oh, good, nineteen seconds in and she's laughing. I should have gotten some sleep the night before, I was _way_ too tired for her cuteness. _'But I'm sitting her at my desk, and Unique and I ordered an early lunch from MacBar—'_

"And macaroni and cheese _obviously_ reminds you of me."

 _'Obviously. But also, I wanted to see how into coming back to my house you'd be after the boat tomorrow night—'_

"I...um..." So yeah, remember how I was trying to untie my tongue? Forget that, it was no longer necessary, I swallowed it.

 _''Cedes and Hummel were talking about having some people over for a barbecue, and to watch the fireworks from the back deck.'_

"A barbecue!" Yes, I yelled it. Tina probably heard me from the house, and was on her way down to invite herself to it. But I was just really glad I hadn't started rambling about how I had a full STD panel, and did not have chlamydia, or herpes, or hepatitis, or...see, I even ramble like a lunatic in my head. "I mean, yeah, a barbecue sounds awesome."

 _'Yeah? Are you sure? I mean, I know we already have plans, and I don't want to force you into doing this...'_

"Of course, I'm sure. We'll go on the boat during the day, and then go back to your place for a barbecue. How upper class American of us."

 _'Naturally. It_ is _the Fourth of July, after all. Unique said she's going to try and come for the night. Apparently this guy Kurt is seeing is coming out with all his sparkly friends—and I'm not being mean, they all wear glitter and have this band together. And Mercedes invited Trouty Mouth and his cousin over, since they're crashing in a house in South with like seventeen guys, or something that actually sounds incredibly_ gay _.'_

"You're still calling him Trouty Mouth." I laughed back at her, because she had come up with at least twenty mouth related nicknames for this guy, and I was still unsure of his real name—Sean? Steve? Saul?—and I wasn't sure she'd call him anything but anything soon.

 _'It's a thing I do.'_ I imagined her shrugging. I imagined her gestures _all the time_ actually, so I figured it would probably be really weird for me if her actual mannerisms didn't fit with what I'd thought when I actually got to spend an extended period of time with her. ' _Once he's in the picture for a while,_ maybe _then I'll call him_ Sam.'

"Sam!" I shouted _again._ Monica Gellar voice, _I am SO good at phone calls!_ "Sorry, I was trying to remember his name."

 _'Basically irrelevant, I'll probably always call him Trouty to you,'_ Always. Yeah, I was fine, totally cool, like a cucumber, or...a polar bear or something. Absolutely chill.

"So tell me, Dr. Not-a-Doctor Lopez, since this is a thing you do, what do you call _me?"_

 _''Ha! I guess I opened myself up to_ that. _Well, now I just call you Brittany, but_ Dorky Hot Ski Shop Girl _has stuck with everyone else.'_

" _Dorky Hot Ski Shop Girl_ I'm offended, Santana. That's as creative has you could get for me?" I clicked my tongue, teasing her, but _Dorky Hot Ski Shop Girl,_ totally write it on my tombstone. Actually, that's a thing for Tina to know, she probably already had that planned for after she had to claim my body.

 _'I was a little distracted, excuse me.'_

"Oh, right, thinking about those martinis, huh?"

 _'Yeah, it was definitely the_ martinis _that distracted me, Britt.'_ In my head she rolled her eyes, she really struck me as type, the playful eye rolling time. Also, the annoyed eye rolling type, but I didn't really want to think about _that. 'Anyway, since these losers are inviting everyone they've ever met, let's get some cool people at his party._

"If you're counting on _me_ to bring the cool, let me reintroduce myself, Brittany, Brittany Pierce, the coolest person I know isn't even a person, he's a cat, and he can't come to your party, so..."

 _'Stop, I'm sure they're great! Just tell Tina no one wants to hear about her wedding.'_

"Because that's worked so well for me for the past eight months? Sure, let me get on it." I looked out at the ocean and kind of smiled like a dope. I loved that she knew about my friends, and also that was was inviting them to her party like she had complete faith that I wasn't a total psycho. Never of us said anything for awhile, and I pictured her again in her lab coat, hearing her take bites of her lunch.

 _'Hey, Britt?'_

"Yeah?"

 _'I'm really excited that tomorrow we're finally getting together.'_

"Me too." I'm pretty sure I caused a solar flare with my grin—that's how it works, I think—but it's cool, those doomsday preppers would probably be psyched for the opportunity to finally use their fifteen million cans of green beans, right? "Like, _so_ excited I could—" Don't say _pee my pants,_ don't say _pee my pants._ "—crap my pants." Crap.

 _'That_ is _really excited.'_ How this actual goddess of a woman continued to talk to me, and continued to laugh along with my absurdity was completely beyond me. But hey, I guess I'm just lucky like that.

"Promise you won't judge me if I like...fall off the boat or something when I see you in a bikini tomorrow?"

 _'I'm hanging up now. I can't handle you being cute while I'm at work. I'm heading out that way around six, and odds are, I'll get stuck driving 'Cedes car in ninety hours of traffic, so I'll let you know once I make it to the house?'_

"Please. I'm going to pass out in the sand right now, because I wasn't done packing until after four."

 _'Jeeze, get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow!'_

"Tomorrow!" I absolutely did not fist pump. No, I'm totally lying, you know I did, because finally, finally, _finally_ we were in the same place at the same time.

After I'd tossed my phone back in my bag, I turned over on my stomach, and I'm pretty sure less than three seconds went by before I was out cold. I had absolutely no idea how long I'd been asleep for, when I heard Tina actually _shrieking_ beside me and Mike shouting at her not to touch me. Blinking my eyes open, I groaned, feeling like I'd swallowed a handful of sand, and when I tried to pick my head up from my towel, my skin screamed like it had been engulfed in flames.

"Wha—what's wrong with me?" Panic totally gripped me, and being disoriented because I'd just woken up definitely wasn't helping. All I knew was that the sun felt like daggers in my eyes, even with my sunglasses on, and I was pretty sure some kind of baptism by fire had gone down on the beach.

"Britt, it's almost five o'clock." I tried to make out Mike's figure, but he just looked like sort of a blur.

"What does that mean? It's the time Satan ascends through the sea and pours lava on me?"

"No." Tina came closer, and her fingers twitched, like she was going to touch me or something. "It means you've been asleep since before we came down here at 11:30 to see if you wanted to go to lunch with us, and you're _fried._ You've gotta get out of the sun."

" _Fuck._ I forgot sunscreen and I...fuck I feel like I'm on fire." I had to drop my head back on the towel, because even the idea of moving made me beg for death, something quick and painless. It was excruciating, like, the most excruciating thing I'd ever experienced, and that was saying something, because I'd gotten seventeen fire ant bites in New Zealand once, and that was _brutal._ But seriously, I felt like I could smell my flesh searing, and I just wanted them to bury me in a hole to protect me and come back in a week or— "Santana. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. How do we reverse this? I have a date tomorrow!"

"We need to start by getting you in the house." Mike knelt down and brushed his fingers over my shoulder, making me hiss in pain, and try to smack him, only making it _worse_ by moving. "But I hate to break it to you—"

"Michael Robert Chang Junior, get her in the house first." Tina smacked his arm, and hard, I kind of hoped, since my shoulder was still stinging, and he could just shut up, because pain or no pain, I was _going_ on that boat in the morning.

When Mike put his arm underneath me to help me up, I actually _screamed,_ then proceeded to whimper and cry for the most excruciating seven hundred feet of my life. I rarely cried, like, to the point where I couldn't even _remember_ the last time I cried _this_ hard—okay, maybe when Artie and I broke up, but mostly because he made me feel like an idiot—but this felt like I was being swallowed up by a fiery inferno and death couldn't come fast enough for me. I don't even care if that was a dramatic response, it was the _worst._ I was _never_ careless like this, never _ever,_ I always carried four kinds of sunscreen, three kinds of bug spray, hats, sunglasses, _everything_ in my backpack when I worked, but I had just been so _tired,_ and never even thought I'd fall asleep for so long. Good job, Piece, exceptional, award winning even.

Because I had absolutely no capacity for decision making, I just did whatever it was that Tina told me to—savor it, Tina, that's the _only_ time _that_ will ever happen—and I actually had to make her help me untie my bikini strings so I could step into the lukewarm shower. The hissing coming from my skin, I was pretty sure it wasn't in my head, and when I stepped out, there were giant blisters on my back, arms, and half on my face. Yeah, _half_ of my face, like a grotesque tragedy and comedy mask. I couldn't even face it, so once I screamed a little more as Tina helped me put aloe everywhere, I laid down completely on the cool, and thankfully _expensive_ sheets on the bed in the bedroom I was staying in and drank a gallon of water through a straw in an attempt to rehydrate my body. It was a few hours later, after I slept again, since that was apparently all I was capable of, and I heard the phone ring on the nightstand.

"Hello?" I mumbled, slipping it under the good side of my face against the pillow, and not even bothering to look. I was with Tina and Mike, that meant it was either my boss or my mother, and I didn't even care about putting on some kind of show while I was still lying in the vat of flames.

 _'Hey, you. Did I wake you up?'_

"Santana." My brain tried to make my body jump at the sound of her voice. My body was _pissed_ at my brain, and I was pretty sure I whimpered. Awesome. _'Twice in one day.'_

 _'Britt? Are you okay?'_

"Mmhm, just a little sunburn." I tried to sit up. Bad idea. I'm pretty sure seventeen of the ten thousand blisters on my back burst, and I bit the pillow to muffle my scream. "Maybe more than a little."

 _'How much more then a little?'_ She sounded more like Dr. Not-a-Doctor Lopez—or at least how I _imagined_ she sounded while talking to a patient—than Santana, and I groaned again.

"A lot more than a little. After I hung up with you, I didn't wake up until five o'clock. And before you ask, I forgot sunscreen. It's like, third-degree burns or something. My ass is just—sorry, you don't want to hear about the weeping blisters on my—" Seriously, I should pay someone to stand around and shove a sock in my mouth when I speak. It's absurd, the things that come out of me. _Weeping blisters?_ Really? Fucking _really?_

 _'Ugh, Brittany, it sounds like you're really suffering. I'm so sorry.'_

"It's fine. I'm pretty sure I'm going to live, or whatever. Maybe. It's just...I can't really move from my bed."

 _'Oh. Yeah. No. I understand that.'_ She sounded so crestfallen that I wanted to smack myself in the face, and totally _would have,_ if I didn't think I might actually start bleeding from it. I knew, as much as I _wanted_ to, there was no was getting out of bed in the morning, let alone going on a boat. _'Even if you weren't immobile, being out in the sun tomorrow would be a really bad idea.'_

"It's like the universe is conspiring against us, Santana." I groaned when I tried to prop my head up, because _ow,_ and felt so much sadness that this wasn't happening _again._

 _'I don't think it's the universe.'_ Oh, right, she didn't believe in fate, but like...I'd never had bad luck like this when trying to plan a date. I mean, I hadn't really _tried_ to date with my schedule since Artie—remember the casual sex thing?—but still. ' _Things happen.'_

"I'm just really disappointed."

 _'I am too, but the important thing is that you feel better, right?'_

God, why was she so amazing? Seriously, I wanted to _scream_ , she was just too damn much for me to take. _The important thing is that you feel better,_ oh my God, can she just go away with all the cuteness, because it made me feel even _worse_ about having to cancel our date. I mean, I probably wouldn't even be able to go to the barbecue, because people might thing I _was_ the barbecue. I was angry and sad and wanted to cry, but still, I was smiling until my face _really_ hurt at how damn sweet she was.

"And you really have to go back Monday?"

 _'Yeah, I really do. I've got patients in the afternoon. I'm sorry, Britt.'_

"Don't be, you're not the idiot who forgot sunscreen and became a flame broiled human on the beach."

 _'You're not an idiot, we've all been there.'_

"Somehow I doubt that you've been. You seem like you'd be vigilant about skincare."

 _'I mean, I am. Wow, way to really peg me for a control freak immediately.'_ Her laugh, I swear, could she bottle it so I could use it as a painkiller always. Okay, creepy, I know, whatever. _'That doesn't mean I've never been sunburned.'_

"You're just really sweet."

 _'I assure you, if you ask 'Cedes, or Lady Hummel, or Unique, they'd probably tell you the exact opposite.'_

"Well if you ask me, _I_ say you're sweet, at least to me."

 _'You're sweet to me too. I'll let you get some rest, I hope you feel a little better in the morning.'_

"Wait!" Still shouting at her, even in agony. "I didn't ask, you made it out here okay?"

 _'Totally. Those two weirdos took her car to go to some bar, but I've got the one my parents leave here, so I'm going to try and do a little good shopping, and then jump in the pool while I'm alone.'_

"Okay, good. I'm glad. Have fun tonight, and text me tomorrow, if you have time?"

 _'You know I always do. Goodnight, red hot chile pepper._

"Goodnight, jerk."

 _'See, not as sweet as you think.'_

After I hung up the phone, I totally wallowed in my not seeing Santana misery-slash-everything hurts agony, for a good half hour, until Mike knocked on the door and fed me ravioli from Ciao Baby, which really could cure absolutely any misery that existed in the universe. Seriously, cheese pasta pockets, what would I even _do_ in Italy? I figured I'd probably come back five thousand pounds, _just_ in time to start holiday eating. But whatever, totally worth it.

Once I devoured the food and a half a bottle of ibuprofen—kidding, I took _three—_ I figured the only thing to do was sleep, and I took a doctor prescribed Ambien to aid in the process. Just like pretty much always, I lost total track of how long I was out, probably a product of rarely sleeping a normal amount of time, and when I woke up again, I felt evil, evil sun streaming through the windows, and heard a soft knock on the bedroom door. Pulling the sheet up over my head to shield myself from the brightness, and almost cried from the tightness in my skin, and took the deepest breath I could managed, as if that would do _anything_ to help.

"Ugh, come in, Tina. I will do anything for you ever, including putting on a wig and your horrible clothes to sub in for you with Mike's mom if you brought me iced coffee."

"I'm actually not Tina." Santana voice jolted right through me, and I'd almost had a heart attack. The last time I'd seen her, I'd been wearing my pajamas, and this time I _wished_ I was, rather than being totally naked under the sheet, and looking like a victim of the furnunculus jinx. "She let me in though, and told me to bring up your coffee. Are you coming out of your sheet fort down there."

"No! Absolutely not! Jeeze, Tina just lets people up to my room. Don't tell her about the wig thing, now I'm _definitely_ not doing that."

 _"Oh."_ Ugh, I made her sound disappointed again, probably because I was freaking about her presence, and I hated that so much that I wanted to die. "I just brought some silvedine cream that I figured would help the burn, and some coconut water since you're probably dehydrated..."

"You didn't have to do that." Swoon, swoon, a hundred swoons, alright? "That was really nice."

"Well, I hated the idea of you feeling like crap, and I figured if I came to see you, I could fill a prescription for you."

"Oh my God." I moaned, and _not_ in a sexy way, in a completely mortified way. "You're here as a medical professional."

"Britt." Why did her dumb voice have to be so soft and caring when I wanted to go back out to the beach and get buried in a giant hole forever? "I'm just here as me, who happens to have a prescription pad. That's it. So can you come out now?"

"No." So what if I was being dramatic? I was entitled to it right now. Santana was a sex goddess, and I was human bubble wrap at the moment. "I look like hell."

"I'm sure I've seen worse."

" _Not_ making me feel better." I reached my hand out from under the sheet, and she put the coffee in it for me to pull back under. "One day you'll see me when I'm in normal clothes, and not half covered in blisters."

"I kind of just want to see you today. I know what you look like already, and you know you're _Hot Ski Shop Girl._ A sunburn's not gonna change that."

"I'm not taking any risks. I really like you, like, a lot." It wasn't really an admission, _obviously_ she knew I liked her, but still, I got all bubbly and weird in my stomach.

"And I totally can't _stand_ you." I wanted to see if she was doing the playful eye roll thing kind of really badly, but the urge to stay hidden was stronger. "That's why I came, obviously."

"Shut up, this isn't funny."

"It kind of is. You're naked and hiding under a sheet. Definitely not how I thought I'd see you without your clothes for the first time." So remember how I felt like a swallowed a lot of sand when I woke up with the sunburn? Yeah, doesn't even compare to the amount of sand it felt like when she said _that._ Like, more than what my high school cheerleading coach made me put in my cayenne lemon juice cleanse, and that's a _lot._

"You...you've pictured the first time you'd see me without clothes?"

"I mean...you haven't?"

"Oh no, you know I'm incapable of having a non embarrassing conversation. You get me going and I'm going to start going on about how I watch too much _Grey's Anatomy_ on my computer when I'm overseas _,_ and I've thought about untying your scrub pants and— _nope!"_

"So apparently I'm coming from work the first time we sleep together then?" I could _hear_ it, the eyebrow raise, the smirk, the lip curl, all the dumb things I thought about when I (regularly) thought about her face.

"Not talking about it. Definitely not."

"Alright then, we'll I'm just going to sit here and talk to this white blob in bed then."

"It's the Fourth of July, don't you have things to do?"

"Well, I had some plans with this hot girl I met in a ski shop last year, but since she's laid up in bed, no, not really."

"Ugh! I'm still not coming out. You're too cute and sweet and I can't handle it."

"That's fine, I can hang out like this, leave the cream and the water on the nightstand when I go, whatever."

"Some first date."

"Oh no, Pierce. This is definitely not our first date, just like pizza wasn't. I'm holding out for _next time_ you come back to the states. Maybe I'll even wear my scrub pants for you."

"So." I smirked to myself, even though she couldn't see me. I had to, really, because sunburned disaster Pierce was apparently _still_ interesting to this girl. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"I'm saying that after some bad timing and bad circumstances, we'll have to get _lucky_ eventually, right?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I just hope it's _next time."_

"Oh, trust me, Brittany Pierce, me too."


	6. Text Interlude Three

**Author's Note: Another GIGANTIC thank you to all of your for reading and reviewing, and just be generally fabulous! Here's some more texts for you :)**

* * *

 _ **East Hampton, New York—Eastern Standard Time**_

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [7/7/14 1:43:58PM]:** Hey!

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [7/7/14 1:44:22PM]:** Just got into my office. How are you feeling today?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/7/14 1:52:34PM]:** Meh. Relocated from bed to the deck under an umbrella.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/7/14 1:52:41PM]:** T said I was gonna get bedsores.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/7/14 1:52:57PM]:** Sores on the front, blisters on the back? No thanks.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/7/14 1:58:29PM]:** Sorry for the GROSS. ANYWAY, pretend I wasn't talking about sores?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/7/14 1:59:35PM]:** How are YOU?

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [7/7/14 2:25:17PM]:** Sorry, patient. Wasn't ignoring you.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [7/7/14 2:25:50PM]:** Tell T you probably wouldn't get bedsores so fast.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [7/7/14 2:26:27PM]:** But it's good you're moving around anyway.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [7/7/14 2:26:48PM]:** I'm good. Bummed I'm back here and you're there but...

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [7/7/14 2:27:51]:** At least someone invented cellphones.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/7/14 3:01:08PM]:** Martin Cooper.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [7/7/14 3:04:31PM]:**?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/7/14 3:05:22PM]:** He invented cellphones.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [7/7/14 3:05:59PM]:** Oh! Then maybe I'll send him a letter to thank him.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/7/14 3:06:12PM]:** He'd probably rather a text.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/7/14 3:06:24PM]:** Even though that was invented by Matti Makkonen.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [7/7/14 3:07:00PM]:** You're such a wealth of knowledge ;)

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/7/14 3:07:13PM]:** Someday I'll win Jeopardy! :blush:

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [7/7/14 3:08:17PM]:** Future Pulitzer Prize winner and Jeopardy champ Brittany Pierce!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/7/14 3:08:42PM]:** #lifegoals

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [7/7/14 3:09:07PM]:** #wifegoals

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [7/7/14 3:10:51PM]:** Kidding

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [7/7/14 3:11:46PM]:** ...ish

* * *

 _ **Barcelona, Spain—Eastern Standard Time+Six Hours**_

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/14/14 6:08:32AM]:** _[IMAGE 13273 SENT]_

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/14/14 6:08:54AM]:** Buenos dias de Barcelona!

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [7/14/14 6:10:02AM]:** Oh look, it's your face when it's NOT covered by a sheet!

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [7/14/14 6:10:43AM]:** Also tu hablas español?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/13/14 6:11:17AM]:** Look for me in 2015 starring in Phantom of the Opera.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/14/14 6:11:23AM]:** Conversationally. ¿Y tu?

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [7/14/14 6:12:07AM]:** Stop, you look fine! Still Hot Ski Shop Girl.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [7/14/14 6:12:29AM]:** Before I spoke English. My abuelita on her death bed made my father promise I'd. Then she didn't die, so she only spoke to me in it.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/14/14 6:13:00AM]:** Still?

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [7/7/14 6:13:19AM]:** That's a long story I'll tell you another day.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [7/14/14 6:13:28AM]:** _[IMAGE 0754 SENT]_

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/14/14 6:13:51AM]:** EXCUSE YOU

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/14/14 6:14:08AM]:** GET RIGHT OUT OF HERE WITH THOSE GLASSES

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/14/14 6:14:33AM]:** I AM IN PUBLIC

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/14/14 6:14:59AM]:**...OR SOMETHING LESS WEIRD

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [7/14/14 6:15:28AM]:** Scrub pants and glasses, got it ;)

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/14/14 6:16:13AM]:** Shut up.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/14/14 6:16:31AM]:** Also, I forgot it was late and you're in bed. Why are you still awake?

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [7/14/14 6:16:48AM]:** Reading new research on cervical cancer.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [7/14/14 6:16:58AM]:** But mostly waiting to hear that you landed.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/14/14 6:17:21AM]:** :D Well I did! Go to sleep! Night, Santana.

* * *

 _ **Rioja, Spain—Eastern Standard Time+Six Hours**_

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/29/14 5:38:23PM]:** Hello, Santana.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [7/29/14 5:39:45PM]:** So formal!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/29/14 5:40:12PM]:** I'm tryinv not to have typos.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [7/29/14 5:40:51PM]:** :,) So I'm guessing your winery tour went well then?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/29/14 5:41:26PM]:** AMAZIHG

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/29/14 5:41:49PM]:** AMSZING

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/29/14 5:42:23PM]:** AMAXING

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/29/14 5:42:53PM]:** FORGET IT.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [7/29/14 5:44:29PM]: I** hope you took your pictures before you started sampling the wine.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [7/29/14 5:44:39PM]:** Or else you might have to go back.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/29/14 5:51:12PM]:** I did.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/29/14 5:51:38PM]:** But I would.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/29/14 5:52:17PM]:** I woukd bring you.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [7/29/14 5:53:11PM]:** You'd bring me to Spain?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/29/14 5:54:39PM]:** Yeah.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [7/29/14 5:55:02PM]:** Really?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/29/14 5:55:56PM]:** If yoi wanna.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/29/14 5:55:33PM]:** Goodwine.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [7/29/14 5:55:48PM]: I** can tell.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/29/14 5:56:03PM]:** So will you?

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [7/29/14 5:57:09PM]:** Go to Spain with you?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/29/14 5:58:00PM]:** Somexay.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [7/29/14 5:58:43PM]:** Sure Britt, I'll go to Spain with you.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/29/14 6:00:07PM]:** Okay good.

* * *

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/30/14 10:28:34AM]:** So...um...sorry about last night?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/30/14 10:29:13AM]:** I don't actually drink much.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/30/14 10:29:42AM]:** Especially not when I'm out of the country.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/30/14 10:30:08AM]:** Apparently I'm a lightweight.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/30/14 10:32:23AM]:** And I just realized its 4:30 in the morning for you right now.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/30/14 10:32:41AM]:** So also sorry for all the texts.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [7/30/14 12:54:03PM]:** Hey there, drunky!

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [7/30/14 12:54:29PM]:** How you feeling?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/30/14 12:57:49PM]:** I drove ninety-three kilometers to a McDonalds so I could get a sausage biscuit.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/30/14 12:58:12PM]:** That should tell you.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [7/30/14 12:59:17PM]:** Gross!

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [7/30/14 1:00:16PM]:** Tell me you're not working today.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/30/14 1:02:14PM]:** God no. Currently laying facedown.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [7/30/14 1:03:47PM]:** INSIDE I hope.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/30/14 1:04:09PM]:** Um, yeah. Never making that mistake again :P

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [7/30/14 1:04:18PM]:** Working, then I have dinner plans tonight.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/30/14 1:17:53PM]:** Oh, fun.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [7/30/14 1:18:24PM]:** I'm gonna take a nap, I'll talk you later. Have fun!

* * *

 _ **Parma, Italy—EST+Six Hours**_

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/5/14 4:13:23PM]:** SANTANA LOPEZ!

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/5/14 4:29:56PM]:** BRITTANY PIERCE!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/5/14 4:31:07PM]:** NO IT'S MY TURN TO YELL!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/5/14 4:31:51PM]:** _[IMAGE 12987 SENT]_

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/5/14 4:33:10PM]:** You got my package!

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/5/14 4:33:49PM]:** I wanted you to get it last week, but you were moving around too much for me to be sure it got to you.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/5/14 4:36:04PM]:** You need to give me a sec, because I don't have words.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/5/14 4:36:28PM]:** #1: The sunscreen. You're a jerk, but you're hot, so I forgive you.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/5/14 4:36:59PM]:** #2: I KNOW I'M DOING FOOD STUFF BUT MILKBAR COOKIES.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/5/14 4:37:19PM]:** #3: OKAY BUT REALLY WHERE DID YOU GET THIS CHEESASAURUS REX SHIRT?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/5/14 4:37:34PM]:** THIS IS VINTAGE 90'S WEAR!

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/5/14 4:38:23PM]:** Haha! I'm so glad you're this happy about it!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/5/14 4:40:16PM]:** _[IMAGE 12988 SENT]_

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/5/14 4:40:21PM]:** WEARING THIS EVERY DAY FOREVER

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/5/14 4:40:57PM]:** You're really cute, Britt.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/5/14 4:41:34PM]:** No, YOU are really cute! I love you!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/5/14 4:41:41PM]:** …

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/5/14 4:41:58PM]:** Like, as a human being. As a good person. In…in not a creepy we haven't even gone on a date yet stalker way.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/5/14 4:42:36PM]:** Got it!

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/5/14 4:43:03PM]:** I'm just really glad you're happy!

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/5/14 4:43:29PM]:** Figured you could use a little taste of home.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/5/14 4:44:18PM]:** I did. Thank you.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/5/14 4:44:49PM]:** You're amazing!

* * *

 _ **Ars-en-Ré, France, EST+6 hours**_

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/16/14 9:12:29PM]:** What are you doing?

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/16/14 9:15:31PM]:** Right now?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/16/14 9:15:47PM]:** Yeah.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/16/14 9:15:56PM]:** Sorry, you know how I'm staying at this inn? It's just really quiet and old, and I'm kinda freaked by it.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/16/14 9:16:22PM]:** Don't be sorry! I'm just laying on my couch catching up on the last season of Scandal.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/16/14 9:16:54PM]:** It's like Satan's ass outside today, so I'm staying in.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/16/14 9:17:11PM]:** Brutal!

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/16/14 9:17:43PM]:** What can I do to help you be less freaked out?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/16/14 9:19:13PM]:** I dunno, tell me something.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/16/14 9:20:02PM]:** What kind of something?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/16/14 9:20:40PM]:** Anything. Something about you. Tell me about your family.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/16/14 9:21:13PM]:** They're not that exciting.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/16/14 9:21:49PM]:** That's okay, mine is way TOO exciting.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/16/14 9:22:04PM]:** Somehow, that doesn't surprise me.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/16/14 9:22:31PM]:** So my dad's a cardio-thoracic surgeon, Mom's a socialite, fundraisers, galas, committees, you name it she's there. and I used to think he only married my mom because she came from money, and her parents put him through med school.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/16/14 9:22:56PM]:** But now that I'm an adult, I get that they love each other in their own weird way.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/16/14 9:23:15PM]:** I'm their only child, and they weren't really around a lot when I was a kid.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/16/14 9:23:34PM]:** I grew up in a brownstone on the Upper West Side, and my abuelita lived on the second floor, so she was just always there

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/16/14 9:23:56PM]:** Stop me if I'm boring you.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/16/14 9:24:12PM]:** You're not, I just don't want to interrupt.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/16/14 9:24:35PM]:** Okay. So my grandma was the one who taught me Spanish, I think I told you that?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/16/14 9:25:09PM]:** You did…you said it was a long story.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/16/14 9:25:31PM]:** You can tell it if you want.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/16/14 9:26:29PM]:** I actually lied.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/16/14 9:26:46PM]:** It's not a long story at all.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/16/14 9:27:08PM]:** Just not one I really tell anyone,

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/16/14 9:27:41PM]:** Oh, okay. You don't have to tell me, Santana.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/16/14 9:28:43PM]:** It's okay, I want to.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/16/14 9:29:10PM]:** I was seventeen, she read my journal, and found out I was SUPER gay.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/16/14 9:29:48PM]:** I came home from school that afternoon, she told me I was going to hell, and she hasn't spoken a single word to me since.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/16/14 9:30:31PM]:** :/ I'm sorry, Santana.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/16/14 9:31:15PM]:** Nah, don't be. Now whenever I go to my parent's, she stays up in her musty bedroom. She's miserable, and I'm happy, you know? Her loss.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/16/14 9:32:24PM]:** And your parents?

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/16/14 9:32:49PM]:** Oh, they're totally fine with it. They knew long before that. My mom loves to tell the story of when I dressed as Uncle Jesse for Halloween.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/16/14 9:33:38PM]:** Okay, that's REALLY cute.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/16/14 9:33:59PM]:** Like, I can't even HANDLE the cuteness. Please tell me you have pictures?

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/16/14 9:35:13PM]:** :blush: I'll try to find some.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/16/14 9:35:53PM]:** SWEET!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/16/14 9:39:07PM]:** And Santana?

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/16/14 9:40:02PM]:** Yeah Britt?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/16/14 9:40:13PM]:** Thanks for telling me that.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/16/14 9:40:32PM]:** And for distracting me tonight.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/16/14 9:40:54PM]:** Just so you know, I think you're even more awesome, because you didn't become a doctor-doctor, and because you were still yourself even after what happened.

* * *

 _ **Lesbos, Greece—EST+7 hours**_

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/28/14 2:13:22AM]:** I have arrived on the Isle of Lesbians!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/28/14 2:14:06AM]:** And guess what? NO LESBIANS IN SIGHT!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/28/14 2:14:19AM]:** Everyone's just…German.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/28/14 2:16:24AM]:** Haha! German lesbians maybe?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/28/14 2:17:11AM]:** What do you call a German lesbian?

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/28/14 2:17:48AM]:** Umm…

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/28/14 2:17:11AM]:** A Kraut muncher :P

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/28/14 2:17:52AM]:** Oh my GOD Britt. :,) That's terrible. The joke and…all of it!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/28/14 2:18:16AM]:** Sorry! :blush: I just couldn't help myself!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/28/14 2:18:31AM]:** Did you have your class start yet? I am so tired I have no concept of time.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/28/14 2:19:28AM]:** In ten minutes. Sitting in the classroom now.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/28/14 2:20:21AM]:** I STILL can't believe you're taking another class when you already have a doctorate. You're going to be Ultra-Super Dr. Not-a-Doctor Lopez. Workaholic.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/28/14 2:20:53AM]:** Talk about the pot calling the kettle black ;)

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/28/14 2:21:27AM]:** Can I be honest with you?

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/28/14 2:21:49AM]:** Always.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/28/14 2:22:10AM]:** This is going to sound dumb, I don't really understand that expression.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/28/14 2:21:49AM]:** Doesn't sound dumb, it's a dumb expression.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/28/14 2:22:02AM]:** The pot and the kettle are both black, so it can't accuse the kettle of being the same thing.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/28/14 2:22:25AM]:** I'm a workaholic, but so are you.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/28/14 2:22:53AM]:** Huh, weird. That's not at all racist, like I thought.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/28/14 2:23:39AM]:** No! Haha not at all!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/28/14 2:24:37AM]:** Well good, now I know how to use it. Thanks!

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/28/14 2:25:41AM]:** Of course!

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [8/28/14 2:26:18AM]:** The professor is here…I need to turn my phone off.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/28/14 2:26:43AM]:** Okay! Good luck on your first day!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [8/28/14 2:26:59AM]:** I'll def be dead to the world when you get out, but talk to you tomorrow!

* * *

 _ **Fucking, Austria—EST+6 hours**_

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [9/13/14 4:12:32PM]:** _[IMAGE 13643 SENT]_

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [9/13/14 4:12:49PM]:** If I wouldn't get arrested, I'd steal it.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [9/13/14 4:14:21PM]:** A giant sign that says Fucking?

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [9/13/14 4:14:45PM]:** Might be worth the risk.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [9/13/14 4:15:37PM]:** Bad influence.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [9/13/14 4:15:59PM]:** I'm driving a Volkswagen Polo. I'm pretty sure it's bigger than my car.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [9/13/14 4:14:45PM]:** _[IMAGE 0826 SENT]_

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [9/13/14 4:15:21PM]:** Not as cool as your sign, but the beach is empty! All the tourists have gone home!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [9/13/14 4:16:27PM]:** Enjoying being at the house by yourself?

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [9/13/14 4:17:01PM]:** SO MUCH.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [9/13/14 4:17:43PM]:** I love my friends, but it's nice coming out here alone. Especially after Labor Day.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [9/13/14 4:17:52PM]:** I've never done it.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [9/13/14 4:19:13PM]:** You will.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [9/13/14 4:19:48PM]:** :D

* * *

 _ **Munich, Germany—EST+6 hours**_

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [9/30/14 3:18:34PM]:** Three weeks of my mother bugging me, and I finally booked a flight home for Thanksgiving.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [9/30/14 3:37:15PM]:** How long did you decide to go for?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [9/30/14 3:38:26PM]:** Just the weekend, I'll fly back to NY on Sunday afternoon.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [9/30/14 3:38:59PM]:** Any longer than that with my mother and I'll kill her.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [9/30/14 3:39:12PM]:** Plus I'd like MOST of my three weeks in the states to be at my own place.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [9/30/14 3:39:31PM]:** I have important things to do.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [9/30/14 3:40:43PM]:** Important things, huh?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [9/30/14 3:41:19PM]:** Very important things. Laundry, the vet, taking some girl on a date…

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [9/30/14 3:43:08PM]:** Lucky girl.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [9/30/14 3:43:29PM]:** So I know nothing about your family, other than the fact that your dad is a ski instructor and your parents smoke weed.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [9/30/14 3:44:16PM]:** LOL that about sums it up…

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [9/30/14 3:45:41PM]:** Oh c'mon, I don't get to find out anything else about them?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [9/30/14 3:46:13PM]:** Twist my arm.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [9/30/14 3:46:37PM]:** So I have a sister, she's six years younger than me.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [9/30/14 3:47:04PM]:** _[IMAGE 10454 SENT]_

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [9/30/14 3:47:31PM]:** From her wedding last year.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [9/30/14 3:48:12PM]:** Look at you, bridesmaid Britt!

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [9/30/14 3:48:49PM]:** She's adopted?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [9/30/14 3:52:02PM]:** Um…so this is kind of my segue into my dad is Korean.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [9/30/14 3:52:19PM]:** It's always weird telling this to people.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [9/30/14 3:52:57PM]:** You know you don't have to.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [9/30/14 3:53:21PM]: I** know, it's just…if you ever meet my family and some Asian dude walks in, that's not Mike's uncle or something, it's my dad.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [9/30/14 3:54:09PM]:** Okay…you know I don't think all Asian people are related, right?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [9/30/14 3:54:51PM]:** No. No I know.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [9/30/14 3:54:02PM]:** My mom cheated on my dad 28 yrs ago…

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [9/30/14 3:54:30PM]:** Oh. Okay.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [9/30/14 3:55:31PM]:** I mean, he's still 100% my dad. He always raised me like my mom wasn't a total asshole.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [9/30/14 3:56:11PM]:** So you don't get a long with your mom?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [9/30/14 3:56:54PM]:** I mean, she's FINE. We didn't talk for like two months when I was in high school and decided Easter dinner was the place to describe, IN DETAIL the circumstances of my conception.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [9/30/14 3:57:15PM]:** Ouch.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [9/30/14 3:58:03PM]:** Yeah. Now I just take her in small doses.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [9/30/14 3:59:17PM]:** Smart.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [9/30/14 3:59:59PM]:** That's like…third date level information right there.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [9/30/14 4:00:12PM]:** Which at this rate, will be in 2017, so…may as well spill the beans.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [9/30/14 4:00:49PM]:** Ha. Ha. Don't even joke.

* * *

 _ **Belfast, Northern Ireland—EST+5 hours**_

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [10/4/14 8:38:13PM]:** Guess what I found!

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [10/4/14 8:38:19PM]:** _[IMAGE 0891 SENT]_

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [10/4/14 8:43:27PM]:** HAVE MERCY!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [10/4/14 8:43:41PM]:** So you were always this cute then?

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [10/4/14 8:45:01PM]:** Can still rock the leather too!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [10/4/14 8:45:36PM]:** I don't doubt it.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [10/4/14 8:46:04PM]:** How about the mullet? :P

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [10/4/14 8:46:39PM]:** I won't push my luck!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [10/4/14 8:49:12PM]:** So you have a thing for red heads then?

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [10/4/14 8:49:41PM]:** Huh?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [10/4/14 8:50:27PM]:** Aunt Becky…

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [10/4/14 8:53:24PM]:** Oh, ha! No. Blondes are more my type.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [10/4/14 8:54:07PM]:** Interesting…

* * *

 _ **Kintbury, England—EST+5 hours**_

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [10/19/14 6:23:22PM]: I** am SO done with British food.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [10/19/14 6:23:48PM]:** The next mushy pea I see, I'm hurling at the wall.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [10/19/14 6:46:19PM]:** Ready to come home then?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [10/19/14 7:12:13PM]:** SO ready.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [10/19/14 7:12:37PM]:** I'm having cheesy delicious dreams now.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [10/19/14 7:12:56PM]:** Maybe it's the shirt.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [10/19/14 7:17:32PM]:** Maybe :)

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [10/19/14 7:17:59PM]:** Just a few more days of green slime!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [10/19/14 7:18:24PM]:** YAY!

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [10/19/14 7:20:04PM]:** Speaking of…

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [10/19/14 7:20:31PM]:** I know you're getting in on the 30th, and you'll probably be shot, BUT if you're miraculously feeling up to it

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [10/19/14 7:20:49PM]:** Mercedes is having a Halloween party on Friday in Brooklyn.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [10/19/14 7:21:16PM]:** If you wanted to be my date…

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [10/19/14 7:21:29PM]:** What are you wearing?

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [10/19/14 7:22:07PM]:** Right now? Um…jeans and a cardigan?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [10/19/14 7:22:41PM]:** NO! To the party, duh!

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [10/19/14 7:23:18PM]:** Oh, I don't know, something superhero maybe?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [10/19/14 7:23:54PM]:** Great! I have a Catwoman costume at home.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [10/19/14 7:24:19PM]:** I'm there!

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [10/19/14 7:25:03PM]:** Yeah?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [10/19/14 7:25:31PM]:** YES! OF COURSE!

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [10/19/14 7:26:01PM]:** AWESOME!


	7. Part Four

**_Author's Note: Seriously, a million thank yous again for all of your kind words. And because of that, I apologize..._**

* * *

 ** _October 30th-31st 2014_**

 ** _New York, New York—Eastern Standard Time_**

Fourteen countries in eleven weeks, a hundred and thirty eight rolls of film, and _one_ pair of clean underwear remaining, that was the count when I got on my flight from Heathrow airport. After I'd tucked my cameras and film under my seat—I only had to make the mistake of checking it _once_ to know I'd never do _that_ again—I took two Ambien and resolved to sleep the entire flight. Once I'd told Tina that I was going to a party with Santana, and begged her to make sure my costume was clean, she'd decided that Friday was _also_ the time for me to stop being the world's shittiest maid of honor and go to this cake tasting-slash-lunch-slash-dress fitting with her, her mom, and Mike's mom. The _second_ I agreed to that, I started contemplating missing my flight, before ultimately coming to the conclusion that missing _another_ date with Santana was way too big of a price to pay, and started brushing up on my menu-Chinese, so I wouldn't get stuck eating chicken feet _again._ I would take mushy peas over that any day of my life, seriously. _Anyway_ , the point of that entire sidebar to the actual story here was that I _needed_ the sleep in the plane. No matter how frequently I traveled, I still couldn't shake jet lag after those long flights, and if I didn't want to look like just one giant eye bag, it was _crucial,_ no matter how much glitter and makeup I planned to pair with my costume.

Luckily, I was actually successful, to the point where my seat mate had to wake me up when we landed, I had drool on my Cheesasaurus Rex shirt, and the dirty looks she kept giving me probably meant that I'd been snoring the entire flight. Relax, lady, no matter how loud my snoring was, I'm sure it doesn't even compare to some of the people I've sat next to on airplanes, trust me. I just smiled at her and told her to have a happy Halloween, while we waited eight-hundred years to disembark. It was fine, I was home, I'd squeeze my cat for an hour and a half, wait for my grocery order to come—I was getting smarter, apparently—and go down to the laundry room and get my life in order. Grouchy airplane lady was _definitely_ not going to take away from my _insane excitement_ about seeing Santana the next day. Nothing would, seriously. I'd been waiting too long, and the stars were _finally_ aligning to make this happen.

When I got home, Lord Tubbington was already on my bed, sneering at me like he always did for the first ten minutes I was back, and my Halloween costume was hanging in a dry cleaning bag on the back of my closet. Okay, so really, as much as I want to punch Tina like eighty-three percent of the time—c'mon, you're lying if you say you don't have a friend like that, _everyone_ does—I love her, like really love her, love her in the I'd totally donate a kidney or an egg or whatever if she needed one kind of way. Really, she's great, and I had to make a promise to myself to do more of my part to participate in all wedding nonsense, and even make an effort to not roll my eyes through the whole thing. That's a huge deal, you don't even understand.

Once I felt like there was some semblance of order in my life, I stripped off the jeans and tank top I'd been wearing to do laundry, pulled the now clean Cheeseasaurus Rex shirt over my head—shut up, I totally wanted it before I even _knew_ Santana—and collapsed on my couch. I checked my phone, in case Tina, or, like, someone else, had called me, and seeing just a picture of Lord Tubbington in sunglasses, I turned on the TV. My DVR had filled up the first week of September, but since everything was new to me, I wrapped myself in a blanket, and willed myself not to fall asleep until nine-thirty, which had _nothing_ to do with that being the time Santana got out of class, c'mon. I was so involved in _Bizarre Foods_ —I mean, obviously I hadn't had enough of world foods after three and a half months in Europe—that I'd so lost track of time and my cellphone that when it started ringing I was scrambling and shoving my cat off the couch to find it beneath the cushions.

"Hello." Yeah, let me just answer Santana's phone call and have her hear my voice for the first time since July all out of breath, and _not_ in a sexy way, it's totally fine.

 _'Hey, Britt! Are you—uh—in the middle of something?'_

"What? No!" How many shades of red are there? Because that's how many I blushed. You'd think I'd shut my mouth after that, right? Yeah? Then you clearly haven't been following along. It's not possible, not when _Santana._ "That was earlier."

 _'Good to know.'_ She started laughing, and I was already crawling under my couch to die. I mean, okay, so I'm open about things, but time and place, Brittany! I probably needed a stapler, or a glue gun, or some industrial strength adhesive. _'So I'm not interrupting anything then?'_

"No! Unless you count _Bizarre Foods: Malaysia,_ which, don't. Anyway, jeeze. How was class?"

 _'Good, I'm really enjoying it. I'm in a cab home now, it's been a long day, and I couldn't deal with taking the train all the way downtown tonight.'_

"Could've taken your class at NYU, close to home!"

 _'Back on the Columbia-NYU thing, huh?'_ She was totally doing that playful eye roll thing, I just _knew_ it.

"America's dream school." While I shrugged, I wondered if _she_ pictured _my_ gestures, or if that was just a weird me thing. Probably a weird me thing.

 _'Ivy League.'_

"Those are fighting words."

 _'And who fired the first shot?'_ She was teasing and cute and _ugh._ How was she even real? Could she possibly even like me at all? I mean, okay, so I talked to get every day, and she'd sent me that cute care package but—

"I'm wearing my Cheesasaurus Rex shirt." Blurt. Is that an actual name? Probably somewhere in the world. I'd have to do some research. I mean, even if it _wasn't,_ I could probably change my name to it anyway. It seemed fitting, at least for like, a middle name or something. Brittany _Blurt_ Pierce. Better than Brittany _foot-in-mouth_ Pierce. Less _diseasy._

 _'You weren't kidding about not taking it off, then.'_

"I mean, I've washed it and stuff. I don't smell or anything,"

 _'I believe you on that one, don't worry. You seem pretty clean to me.'_

"Totally. In all the ways. I had a full STD panel done last time I was home, and definitely haven't contracted any or anything." Okay, so maybe _foot-in-mouth_ was a better one. It was like I had some kind of freaking syndrome or something. It wasn't even funny anymore.

 _'Well—'_ She took a deep breath, she was probably trying to piece together why I was such a nutcase, or maybe _checking_ her medical books to see if I really _did_ have a syndrome. _'Considering I'm coming from an infectious diseases class, I'll tell you an extra good job on that.'_

"So tomorrow." Terrible, terrible segue.

 _'Tomorrow. Finally!'_

"You're telling me! So...I've got this wedding stuff all day, and I'm going to be in Brooklyn anyway, so is it cool if I meet you at the party?"

 _'Yeah, of course. I'm coming right from work, so that totally works.'_ She was totally smiling, I could feel it, and it made my stomach twist up in all these knots, worse than the time I'd eaten sushi that I'd left in the bottom of my carry on bag. Or, something that _doesn't_ relate too good poisoning. _'Are you actually going to wear your costume, or should I dress as a giant bowl of macaroni to go along with your shirt?'_

"Whoa, that would be a great cou— _coordinating_ costume, no? I mean, I guess presumably Cheesasaurus Rex _eats_ the macaroni and cheese though, so it could get kinda weird. Or...maybe it's a good thing, depending on—" Head smack number five thousand. " _Yes,_ I'm wearing my costume. You still haven't told me what you're going to be."

 _'I know. You're just going to have to wait until tomorrow, aren't you?'_

"Psht, _rude!"_ I laughed, she laughed. It takes less than that to be considered married in some cultures. Maybe sometime after we finally got to go on a first date... "Well I can't wait."

 _'Neither can I. I'm just getting out if the cab, and I'm toast, but I'll text you Mercedes' address?'_

"Yeah, definitely. Wish me luck in wedding prep hell."

 _'Oh, God, if Tina's future mother-in-law is as tough as you say, you're really going to need it.'_

"There's alcohol at this party right?"

 _'It wouldn't be a Halloween party without it. But lightweight, I know what liquor does to you.'_

"Don't worry, I won't invite you to Spain or anything."

 _'Hmm.'_ Ugh, I didn't know how to read her noises yet—not like _that..._ but, that too, hopefully soon-ish?—so I just laughed super awkwardly. Whatever, it would probably be awkward if I _wasn't,_ no? _'Alright, well I'll see you at seven. Enjoy sleeping in your own bed tonight!'_

"Trust me, I will! Bye, Santana." Mental (totally actual) fist pump that I didn't say what I was thinking. You know it, don't you, what I thought? _I'd rather be sleeping in yours._

The whole next day was ridiculous. The wedding venue was really, like, really nice, I've gotta give Tina that. If Global Warming cooled it's jets for like a day or two, they could totally end up with this gorgeous snowy scene out the giant window, and considering I was pretty sure they were having a low key _Frozen_ themed wedding—I mean, it has to be, right, if everything is ice blue and white?—that was probably what Tina was banking on. Of course, it only took about fourteen minutes before Mrs. Chang and Mrs. Cohen-Chang were arguing about flowers. Tina wanted orchids. Obviously, the argument was about whether they would have roses or peonies. They're _really_ good at listening. I mostly stared at walls and/or my phone to keep from rolling my eyes at it. I was keeping my promise to myself, even when I accidentally ate a pig intestine, so ten points for Ravenclaw.

By the time we were finally freaking finished, I realized that I had a massive knot in my stomach. I wanted to blame it on those damn intestines—seriously gagging just thinking about it—but I knew it was because of Santana. Ten months we'd been waiting for this, and I'd probably get to finally kiss her. Mostly, I was worrying that I might accidentally break her nose, or burp intestine, or something worse, and then I'd have to resign myself to the idea that fate wasn't actually in favor of this pairing, so I kind of psyched myself out while getting ready in the bathroom at Tina's parents' house. When I came out of the bathroom, her mom told me I was dressed too _sexified,_ so at least I was feeling good about my outfit. No pajamas, no sheet over my head, _sexified_ was like forty-seven hundred steps up, so I just shrugged my shoulders and got in Tina's car so she could drop me off before going to take Mike's nephew trick-or treating.

So I almost passed out ringing the buzzer to Mercedes' apartment. I'd gotten a text from Santana saying that she'd forgotten her charger and that her phone was about to die—same, phone, same—but that she was on her way. When the door opened, I smiled, I tried to be normal and not some creepo Santana picked up on the street, but...obviously, I'm me, so my smile probably looked more like the Joker than some sexy half-lady-half-cat when the door opened and revealed Santana's best friend on the other side.

"Uh, hey Mercedes. I'm not sure if you know who I am, but Santana—"

"Oh, girlfriend, I know _exactly_ who you are." It was totally a nice tone, even though it sounded kind of sassy, and I let myself take a breath. "But I'm not Mercedes."

"Oh." Cancel that breath. My body doesn't deserve to consume air. In fairness to _me,_ I'd only seen Mercedes in person once all the way on the other side of REI, and this girl was also currently dressed as Beyoncé so... "I'm sorry, I—uh—um—I've never actually met Mercedes before and...sorry."

"Trust me, I could be mistaken for worse things than Miss Mercedes Jones, come on in, what can I get you?"

"Your name?" It was the first thing I could think of to say, even though that's not what she meant. I knew I probably shouldn't start drinking until Santana got there anyway. That could spell disaster.

"Sorry! I'm sure Santana told you about me. Unique, Unique Adams."

"Oh! You're Unique! She's told me so much about you! I mean, only really good things, swear."

"The fact that you know my real name is a good indicator." She laughed, and I relaxed a little. I looked around and there were just a _lot_ of people, people that really made me anxious for Santana to arrive. "Let me go introduce you to _actual_ Mercedes and get you a drink."

"I'm good on the drink. I say dumb enough stuff without that influence."

"Trust me, honey, I've heard. How was Spain, anyway?"

"She told you?" Remember those fifty shades of red? Now add about ninety-eight thousand more and you've got my face.

"Told me? She practically packed her bags."

Unique just sucked her teeth, but I was stopped from asking any more questions by Mercedes cutting into the conversation with Guppy Face. I'm pretty sure they noticed me trying to size up his lips versus her head, to see if he could actually swallow it whole—Santana was _not_ kidding about the size of them—since he kept looking at me kind of weird, but I just kind of plays it off like I was really into their _Rocky Horror Picture Show_ costumes. True story, I've never actually seen it. Don't tell anyone though, it makes me totally culturally inept.

Way, way too much time passed, and I kept checking my phone, really anxious about when Santana would get there already. Her friends were really nice, but I was just so conscious about everything that came out of my mouth, and I felt sort of crawly in my costume. Forty-five minutes after Santana was supposed to arrive, I finally conceded to have a drink, and I took it with me to the bathroom—gross, I know, but desperate times call for desperate measures—so I could call Santana.

"Hey." It went right to voicemail, and she probably wouldn't hear it until after she got to the party, and maybe while she was in my bed, or I was in her bed, or...some sort of thing that wasn't making crazy assumptions about her actually being into me, or the night not turning into a total disaster. "So, um, I know your phone's dead, but it's Brittany. I don't even know why I'm calling, I've only had two sips of this weird punch thing that Unique poured me, so it's not that. But anyway, I hope you get here soon, I accidentally called Unique Mercedes, and I think Sam knows I know about the Trouty Mouth thing. Just feeling kind of weird. Okay, see you soon."

I took two big gulps of the drink before I tucked my phone back into the side of my leather boot. It tasted like a liquid PixieStick, so I figured it wouldn't have too much alcohol—clearly I never went to college parties—and when I came out of the bathroom again, I was cornered immediately by Peter Pan and his sidekick, an especially burly Captain Hook. It took me a second, especially given that I'd only seen _him_ that one time, and in the occasional selfies he snapped of himself and sent from Santana's phone, to realize it was Kurt.

"Brittany? Mercedes told me you were in the bathroom, and I've just been _dying_ to finally meet you."

"Oh, hey." I had to adjust my ears a little, then wondered if cats felt that same urge when they were cornered. Probably, somewhere right along with hissing and swatting with their tails. "I'm glad to meet you too. Kurt, right? I don't want to mess that up again..."

"Ah, of course. Unique told me about that, not really your fault though. Have you heard from Santana? Shes _never_ late."

"I just left her a message." Sip, sip, sip of my diabetic coma inducing drink. "She said her phone was dying earlier though."

"Hmm, maybe traffic was bad. I usually take a cab, but David here insisted on taking the subway tonight."

"Hey, I'm Brittany Pierce, Santana's—um—friend." I stuck out my hand and it was engulfed by David's giant one. I decided not to even speculate on the top/bottom situation going on _there,_ and I but my tongue three times to remind myself not to say anything out loud. "I actually just got back from England!"

"That's cool, Brittany." So David didn't have a British accent, not all all. He sounded way more like he was from the Midwest than the UK, so that was kind of weird, considering Santana kept calling him Dr. Who... "Was it nice? I've never been there."

"Oh." Shit. Shit. Shit. This wasn't Dr. Who, so then it had to be. "How's your band? Don't tell Santana I told you, but she said you guys were really good."

"I don't have a band, but that's cool that she enjoyed...whatever she it was she saw." Kurt's eyes were totally narrowed at me, like, he could probably shoot daggers out of them and obliterate me if he wanted to. So obviously I managed to stop talking, right? Wrong. If this guy wasn't Dr. Who or sparkly band guy, then—

"Oh God, I'm so sorry, I didn't realize you guys had decided to try your eng—"

"Sam!" Kurt pretty much screamed it, and I realized the guy probably wasn't the ex-fiancé either. Ugh. I mean...he was in costume! I couldn't tell about his eyebrows or his hair gel or his bow ties. It was an honest mistake, I swear. But _clearly_ I was now two for thee at screwing up introductions with Santana's closest friends, awesome. And where even _was_ she to save me from myself. Gulp, gulp, one drink done. "How about you show Brittany the outside seating area? I'll let Santana know where she is?"

"Yeah, cool man. Brittany, you look like you need a refill anyway. Lemme go grab you one?"

"Sure, yeah, thanks Sam. I guess I'll catch up with you guys later."

My face was feeling so hot, probably from embarrassment, Kurt pretty much looked like he wanted to _throw me_ from the rooftop, and I _still_ hadn't figured out which one Dave was by the time I found a corner to wait in while Sam poured me another drink. I looked at my phone again, and it had gotten to the point where she was over an hour late, and I wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or concerned. I tried not to think of fate, and how a missed _third_ date really didn't sound good, but I felt this awful sinking feeling in my stomach. I didn't know if it was Artie's obnoxious voice in my head, telling me that relationships don't work if half of one never stayed in the country, a general sense of disquiet, or that sugary drink, but I frowned and dialed the phone again. Yeah, I know, it wasn't going to work, but I really wasn't having fun at this party...

"Hi, it's me again. So, I'm not really sure where you are, but it's twenty after eight, and I'm pretty sure your friends all hate me. If you don't get here soon, you might want to look for me on the pavement outside, because Kurt is sending me to the roof, and I kind of forgot how to shut up, and I definitely thought Dave was not who he was...three times. Anyway I'm starting to get worried that you're not here, and I hope you're okay."

The second drink, I drank faster than the first, and I was onto my third by the time nine o'clock rolled around and I was starting to get massively freaked out. Unique came and hung out with me for awhile, but she had other friends to entertain, and I knew literally no one. Trouty Mouth also kept coming to talk to me, and maybe it was just me, or maybe he was just one of those super touchy people, but he was getting _way_ too close to for comfort. I was pretty far past just being tipsy, and I was really trying _not_ to be mad, but this sucked, I was upset, and part of my began considering calling Tina to come get me before _my_ battery died. I'd sort of just resigned myself to sitting on the roof, still in my Catwoman costume, playing Candy Crush for awhile, when Mercedes came up holding out a cordless phone.

"Brittany, it's Santana." She held out the phone, and my heart started pounding really, really fast in my chest. I still couldn't shake that weird feeling in my stomach, and I _hated_ it so much.

"She's not dead?" Why did I even ask that? Ugh, really though, I kept thinking that for the forty-five minutes leading up to it, and I couldn't help it. "Nevermind. Santana?"

 _'Hey Britt.'_ She sounded totally frazzled, and my stomach kept sinking.

"Where _are_ you?"

 _'Right now, I'm on the Brooklyn Bridge. I'm using the cop's phone—'_

"What? Are you alright? Why are the cops there?"

 _'I'm fine, just really fucking pissed off. There was a big accident, the cabbie turned the car off while we waited it out, and then it wouldn't start again.'_ I could hardly hear her over the sound of honking horns, and mostly I didn't know what to say. Date one, destroyed film and a missed flight, date two, third degree sunburn, now date three, she was stuck on a bridge with the police? _'I'm sorry, Britt, I just have no idea when I'm even going to get there.'_

"It's okay, it's not your fault. It was a pipe dream to expect it to actually happen this time, right?"

 _'No, Brittany.'_ She knew what I was thinking, she knew I believed in fate, even if she didn't, and fate just really seemed to be fucking with _everything._

"I know you're borrowing a phone and you can't talk. I think I'm just going to go, I feel really weird here."

 _'Okay, yeah.'_ I really, seriously hated that crestfallen voice she got when she was disappointed. It made me want to punch a baby...or, not really, that was a _terrible_ expression, I don't even know who invented it, but anyway, it upset me a lot. Her expression, and the baby punching. _'I get that. I'm really sorry, again.'_

"You really don't have to apologize. It's fine."

 _'I'll call you when I get home?'_

"Yeah, please. Be careful okay? Stay in the car?"

 _'Mmhm, definitely. Bye, Britt.'_

I sort of half-ass waved goodbye to everyone, thanking Mercedes for inviting me, and putting my coat on to sort of cover my costume. When I hailed a cab, and the driver told me that the Brooklyn Bridge was closed, and he was going to take the tunnel, I grit my teeth in frustration. We actually managed to close an entire bridge, and I just had to put my head in my hands, smearing glitter everywhere.

My head was kind of foggy from those nasty drinks, and all I wanted to do when I got home was take a shower and cuddle with my one true love Lord Tubbington. Maybe I was being dramatic, and maybe I was overthinking things, but how many signs could I ignore? And more than that, how long could I actually expect Santana to wait around for me? It hurt, like, definitely way harder than breaking up with Artie even did, even thinking about it, but...I couldn't even help it. I just kept stewing in it, until I was in bed watching more _Bizarre Foods_ with my cat snuggled to my chest, and the phone finally rang.

"Hi." I basically just breathed and hoped it came out as a word.

 _'Hey. I'm home.'_

"Good. I'm glad." Holy _crap,_ if I thought the awkward things I said were bad, the awkward _silence_ was a million times worse.

 _'You sound mad.'_

"I'm not mad. I'm not mad at _all._ God, I'm just sad, and freaking pissed at the universe, and I just think that fate is trying to say something here."

 _'I think you've seen_ Serendipity _too many times. Shit happens sometimes, Britt, and whole idea of fate keeping us apart is ridiculous.'_

"Why is it ridiculous? Because I'm sick of getting my hopes up and then getting crushed? What's next, Santana? We plan a lunch date and I get hit by a city but on the way there?"

 _''Okay, why would you even_ say _that? It's ridiculous because it's not_ fate _keeping us apart. We're both insanely busy, your job takes you out of the country, it's not like we're next door neighbors who've never passed each other. I like you, and I know you like me too. So what if it's taken us almost a year to go on a date? We've spent ten months talking every single day, no matter where you are in the world…"_

"And what about when that's not enough? What about when you meet some girl who's here, and you can have something real with her, then what?"

' _How can you say that this isn't real?'_ She sounded hurt, like really, really hurt, and I kind of wanted to throw up. But I was so afraid I'd fall harder for her, I was so afraid she'd realize that long distance fucking sucks, I was so afraid, and I just couldn't. _'What I feel for you, that's real.'_

"So what? We're never going to have dinner? We're never going to touch, kiss, do more than kiss? That's enough for you? Knowing I'm just a name in your phone?"

' _Of course it's not enough, but if it's that or nothing right now, I'd rather have that with_ you. _'_

"Why? You barely even know me."

' _Really, Brittany? After everything we've talked about, after the things I've told you that I've never told anyone, I barely_ know _you? Wow."_

"Santana, I didn't mean—"

' _Whatever. I guess I meant less to you than I thought. We'll just end this now, before I fall even harder for you, since apparently_ this _is_ fate _saying so, not you sabotaging something.'_

"Santana, I—"

' _Forget it, Brittany. Goodbye. Happy Halloween.'_

I was sputtering, I needed to say something. I needed to untie my tongue. I needed to get my foot out of my mouth. It wasn't cute or quirky anymore. It sucked. It really fucking sucked, but before I could say another word, the line went dead, and I threw myself back on my pillow, in my bed, very much alone, and groaned.


	8. Text Interlude Four

**Author's Note: One more text interlude before the final chapter. Once again, thank you all for your amazing reviews, and I promise, it'll get better!**

* * *

 _ **New York, New York—Eastern Standard Time**_

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [11/1/14 9:07:34AM]:** Hi.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [11/1/14 9:56:12AM]:** Hey.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [11/1/14 9:56:29AM]:** What's up?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [11/1/14 9:58:04PM]:** I wanted to apologize for last night.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [11/1/14 9:59:41AM]:** Yeah, thanks.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [11/1/14 10:00:11]:** It's not really necessary.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [11/1/14 10:01:32AM]:** It is though.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [11/1/14 10:01:53AM]:** I just feel like crap this morning.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ [11/1/14 10:02:17AM]:** Look, I'm not going to go back and forth about whether or not an apology is necessary. I need to do laundry, and you clearly need space.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ** **[11/1/14 10:02:29AM]:** Let's just leave it at that.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [11/1/14 10:02:46AM]:** Okay.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [11/1/14 10:02:59AM]:** :(

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ** **[11/1/14 10:24:18AM]:** Yeah. Same.

* * *

 _ **Niwot, Colorado—EST-Two Hours**_

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [11/27/14 1:14:57PM]:** Just wanted to say happy Thanksgiving.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-** **DOCTOR LOPEZ [11/27/14 4:02:30PM]:** Thanks. You too.

 **FROM: DR. NOT-A-DOCTOR LOPEZ** **[11/27/14 4:02:51PM]:** Good luck with your family.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [11/27/14 4:04:06PM]:** Thanks, you too!

* * *

 _ **Bogotá, Colombia—Local Equivalent of EST**_

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/4/14 8:39:42PM]:** I made it to Colombia. Felt weird not to tell you.

 **FROM:** **SANTANA** **LOPEZ** **[12/4/14 8:47:09PM]:** Good. Be safe.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/4/14 8:47:20PM]:** Thanks, I will.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/4/14 8:47:42PM]:** I miss you, Santana.

* * *

 **FROM: BIRTHGIVER [12/6/14 2:03:23 PM]:** Are you coming home for Christmas?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/6/14 7:39:51PM]:** Ma, I told you at Thanksgiving that I wasn't.

 **FROM: BIRTHGIVER [12/6/14 7:46:11PM]:** But your sister's pregnant.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/6/14 7:52:45PM]:** I know. I was there when she told everyone. Remember when she put her pee stick next to the turkey and I almost puked?

 **FROM: BIRTHGIVER [12/6/14 7:53:51PM]:** Oh stop. It was in a baggie.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/6/14 7:54:19PM]:** Still gross.

 **FROM: BIRTHGIVER [12/6/14 7:56:38PM]:** So are you coming?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/6/14 7:57:23PM]:** NO. I want to NOT be on a plane for five minutes, okay?

 **FROM: BIRTHGIVER [12/6/14 8:00:21PM]:** So you're spending Christmas alone?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/6/14 8:05:34PM]:** I have friends.

 **FROM: BIRTHGIVER [12/6/14 8:08:27PM]:** You're supposed to spend Christmas with ppl you love.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/6/14 8:17:04PM]:** I love my friends.

 **FROM: BIRTHGIVER [12/6/14 8:19:51PM]:** I still think you should come home.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/6/14 8:23:12PM]:** I'm sorry mom, not this year.

* * *

 _ **La Paz, Colombia** **—Local Equivalent of EST**_

 **FROM: SHUT UP TINA [12/8/14 6:22:31PM]:** Guess who I saw today?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/8/14 6:29:01PM]:** IDK, Artie and his triplets?

 **FROM: SHUT UP TINA [12/8/14 6:29:19PM]:** Artie has triplets?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/8/14 6:29:52PM]:** No. IDK. Maybe. Probably.

 **FROM: SHUT UP TINA [12/8/14 6:30:13PM]:** You lost your right to be bitter on Halloween.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/8/14 6:30:44PM]:** Shut up, Tina.

 **FROM: SHUT UP TINA [12/8/14 6:30:57PM]:** Santana.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/8/14 6:31:10PM]:** I'm not an idiot, I know what you're talking about, thanks.

 **FROM: SHUT UP TINA [12/8/14 6:31:38PM]:** No, that's who I saw.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/8/14 6:31:53PM]:** No.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/8/14 6:31:59PM]:** I'll kill you. Tell me you didn't say anything to her.

 **FROM: SHUT UP TINA [12/8/14 6:32:14PM]:** I could, but I'd be lying.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/8/14 6:32:36PM]:** I hate you so much.

 **FROM: SHUT UP TINA [12/8/14 6:33:02PM]:** You don't.

 **FROM: SHUT UP TINA [12/8/14 6:35:29PM]:** Hello?

 **FROM: SHUT UP TINA [12/8/14 6:38:43PM]:** HELLO?

 _ **[MISSED FACETIME VOICE CALL FROM SHUT UP TINA]**_

 **FROM: SHUT UP TINA [12/8/14 6:44:20PM]:** Stop ignoring me!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/8/14 6:59:14PM]:** WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU SAY?

 **FROM: SHUT UP TINA [12/8/14 6:59:37PM]:** Just hi, and that I think you're an idiot.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/8/14 7:03:23PM]:** Awesome.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/8/14 7:03:38PM]:** Thanks.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/8/14 7:03:56PM]:** The last thing I texted her was that I missed her.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/8/14 7:04:05PM]:** So that's just what I needed.

* * *

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/8/14 7:05:12PM]:** Hope you get your money back on your wedding after I murder your fiancée.

 **FROM: THE BETTER CHANG [12/8/14 7:05:43PM]:** Huh? What?

* * *

 **FROM: SHUT UP TINA [12/8/14 7:06:04PM]:** Stop texting Mike!

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/8/14 7:09:46PM]:** No.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/8/14 7:10:01PM]:** _[IMAGE 14578 SENT]_

 **FROM: SHUT UP TINA [12/8/14 7:10:07]:** Did you just take a picture of your middle finger?

 **FROM: SHUT UP TINA [12/8/14 7:10:16PM]:** You don't like when I'm right.

 **FROM: SHUT UP TINA [12/8/14 7:10:41PM]:** You haven't shut up about her since Jan. You're blowing it.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/8/14 7:11:58PM]:** I don't like when you stuck your nose into shit that's not your business.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/8/14 7:12:07PM]:** And you don't know what you're talking about.

 **FROM: SHUT UP TINA [12/8/14 7:12:19PM]:** Really? I don't know that Artie, who by the way, you didn't even LOVE, in case you forgot, has you do scared of LDRs bc it didn't work w/ him?

 **FROM: SHUT UP TINA [12/8/14 7:12:26PM]:** I don't know that you have real feelings for her and you're making idiotic excuses about fate?

 **FROM: SHUT UP TINA [12/8/14 7:12:54PM]:** And jsyk, she asked how you were. It's pretty obvious she misses you too,

 **FROM: SHUT UP TINA [12/8/14 7:19:43PM]:** I told her she should come to my wedding.

* * *

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/8/14 7:20:16PM]:** DEAD MIKE. BURIED. NO TRACE.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/8/14 7:20:41PM]:** SHE NEEDS TO GTFO OF MY BUSINESS.

* * *

 **FROM: SHUT UP TINA [12/8/14 7:22:13PM]:** Whatever. Be miserable.

 **FROM: SHUT UP TINA [12/8/14 7:22:28PM]:** Dress fitting 12/15 3PM

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/8/14 7:22:55PM]:** Not coming. To the fitting or the wedding. Bye.

* * *

 **FROM: THE BETTER CHANG [12/8/14 8:47:19PM]:** So she didn't actually invite her to the wedding.

 **FROM: THE BETTER CHANG [12/8/14 8:47:44PM]:** Apparently she wanted to get your attention about it

 **FROM: THE BETTER CHANG [12/8/14 8:48:01PM]:** I told her that was a stupid thing to say.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/8/14 9:04:28PM]:** Well good.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/8/14 9:04:51PM]:** Thanks...

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/8/14 9:05:17PM]:** I'm still pissed at her, but I appreciate that.

 **FROM: THE BETTER CHANG [12/8/14 9:07:23PM]:** It was pretty misguided, but you know she just wants you to be happy, right?

 **FROM: THE BETTER CHANG [12/8/14 9:07:49PM]:** We both do.

* * *

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/12/14 5:03:21AM]:** Can you do me a huge favor and drop LT off at my apartment? My flight gets in at 4:30, so whenever you have time.

 **FROM: THE BETTER CHANG [12/12/14 7:29:32AM]:** Yeah, sure Britt. I'll stop by after work.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/12/14 7:29:57PM]:** Great! Thanks!

 **FROM: THE BETTER CHANG [12/12/14 7:32:32AM]:** Are you still not talking to T?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/12/14 7:32:48PM]:** I'm not NOT talking to her. I'm just...not talking to her.

 **FROM: THE BETTER CHANG [12/12/14 7:3407AM]:** Okay...

 **FROM: THE BETTER CHANG [12/12/14 7:36:13AM]:** And should I not ask about Santana?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/12/14 7:38:34PM]:** Yeah. Don't.

* * *

 _ **New York, New York—Eastern Standard Time**_

 **FROM: SANTANA LOPEZ [12/12/14 3:38:29PM]:** I think your flight back was today.

 **FROM: SANTANA LOPEZ [12/12/14 3:38:55PM]:** So, hope you have a safe flight.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/12/14 4:39:23PM]:** Thanks, I did. Just landed.

 **FROM: SANTANA LOPEZ [12/12/14 5:02:07PM]:** Good, I'm glad.

* * *

 **FROM: TINA COHEN-CHANG IS DEAD TO ME [12/14/14 10:58:23PM]:** I need to know if you're coming tomorrow.

 **FROM: TINA COHEN-CHANG IS DEAD TO ME [12/14/14 10:58:51PM]:** Can you just forgive me?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/14/14 11:21:18PM]:** Well considering you didn't apologize...

 **FROM: TINA COHEN-CHANG IS DEAD TO ME [12/14/14 11:22:05PM]:** I'm sorry for telling Santana you're an idiot. But I'm not sorry for thinking it.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/14/14 11:23:33PM]:** That's fair. I kinda think it too :/

 **FROM: TINA COHEN-CHANG IS DEAD TO ME [12/14/14 11:23:52PM]:** So you're coming?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/14/14 11:25:08PM]:** I'm coming.

 **FROM: TINA COHEN-CHANG IS DEAD TO ME [12/14/14 11:25:31PM]:** I'm glad.

 **FROM: TINA COHEN-CHANG IS DEAD TO ME [12/14/14 11:25:56PM]:** Are you coming to my mom's for xmas eve?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/14/14 11:27:09PM]:** Probably not.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/14/14 11:27:30PM]:** I'm tired, it's been a long year, and I think I'm laying low this Christmas.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/14/14 11:27:47PM]:** Don't tell Whitney. She's already having a stroke bc I'm not coming home.

 **FROM: TINA COHEN-CHANG IS DEAD TO ME [12/14/14 11:28:18PM]:** Okay, just figured I'd invite you, so you know you don't have to be alone for Christmas.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/14/14 11:29:43PM]:** Thanks, I appreciate it.


	9. Part Five

**Author's Note: So here we go, last part! Thank you all of going with me on this journey in such a different style than I've ever written! I wish you all a happy, healthy holiday season!**

* * *

 _ **New York, New York—Eastern Standard Time**_

 _ **December 24th, 2014**_

After my last trip of the year, a two week stint in Colombia photographing _La Noche de las Velitas_ and an array of other pre-Christmas traditions, I came back home for what would be the longest in almost two years. You'd think I'd be happy about it after the year I'd had, right? I mean, I guess I was, to some extent. Part of me was glad that I'd be able to deep clean my apartment, to help Tina with the wedding stuff—I forgave her, mostly, for the Santana thing, even though I still think she shouldn't have gone up to her—to do a few local projects, and to just relax. But the other part of me, it wasn't really sure how, without something major to do, I'd ever keep my mind off of Santana Lopez.

Let me tell you this, there are few things in the world that make me more squirmy than clipped text messages. It was like sixty to zero or something—I don't know, I'm not good at car analogies—with Santana and I after the Halloween party disaster. Of course, I immediately regretted saying what I said to her, before my head even hit the pillow that night, but at the same time, I still believed it was true. Yeah, okay, so the Artie thing definitely played a big part of why I was so wary. I was mopey and depressed after _that,_ and by the end of our relationship, I barely even _liked_ him, and I just didn't want to see history repeat itself with someone who was constantly making me smile at my phone and feel like a big dope the minute I heard the text chimes. So obviously, not at _all_ counterproductive to just say dumb things and push her away from me, right? I mean, fate was pretty much forcing my hand anyway, so why not cool it down before something terrible happened?

But anyway, the short text messages sucked. I missed her, like actually a _lot._ When I was in Colombia, I'd think of texting her pictures of funny signs, or of putting on my Cheesasaurus Rex shirt—I had packed it, but I couldn't bring myself to wear it—and taking selfies like a human Flat Stanley. Or I'd randomly wonder where Santana's family originally came from, since I knew they spoke Spanish, but nothing more. Or I'd just look at my watch and think about what she'd been doing at that exact time. It wasn't creepy, I swear, I'd just spent so much time talking to her, and I pretty much knew her schedule, so _not_ getting texts on her lunch hour, or while she was waiting for class to start, or when she'd be getting home from work was really, really painful. I missed her a lot, and considering I'd told her that she barely even _knew_ me, and I'd hurt her, and then got hurt myself in return, I had mostly myself to blame.

I was determined not to let it get me down though. I couldn't. I mean, what was I going to do, go show up at her office with a truckload of flowers and a trained monkey? That would be _ridiculous,_ and I'd probably trip over the monkey and fall in a subway grate on my way into the building and die. Fate's a bitch, remember? And besides, I couldn't even be like _take me back,_ when I was never really hers, or she was never really mine, or whatever the proper semantics of that statement were. I just felt slumpy, and I figured if I covered my slump with enough Christmas movies and gingerbread cookies and an over decorated tiny tree in my apartment, then maybe I could work myself out of it. Maybe.

So that's what I did. I got up at three in the morning to take pictures from my rooftop of the neighborhood dusted in snow,I printed them on Christmas cards and send a few out. I hung lights from the fire escape, I dragged a three foot tree home and pulled the ornaments up from the storage locker in the basement. I baked a ton of cookies, and then I opted out of every single party I was invited to in favor of staying home, sharing gingerbread with Lord Tubbington—he only eats human food, I know, it's a problem—and watching hours and hours of Hallmark Christmas movies where some sad lady met some generic dude and suddenly her life was a million times better. I promise, the whole of my holiday season was far less depressing then it sounds though. It was exactly what I needed, and by the time Christmas Eve came around, and I'd put a teeny tiny turkey in the oven and opened a bottle of the white wine I'd brought back from Spain, I was feeling more chill than I had in a very long time. Except for one problem, I'd forgotten cranberry sauce, and though I would have gone without it, Lord Tubbington's low growl at the mere consideration that I skip his _favorite_ had me pulling on boots and gloves and an array of other warm things to trek to the Morton Williams in the dark and snow. You ever want proof that I love my cat? That's the proof right there.

The snow had gotten heavier than it was when I'd gone to pick up my prescription at Duane Reade earlier in the day—for vitamins, don't worry, I hadn't contracted any STDs, that would mean, at the very least, that I was actually _having_ sex, and I wasn't, because I was still hung up on some nurse practitioner—and I trudged through the snow, cursing that damn cat, and probably myself for treating him like an actual human. When I got to the store, it was like a post-apocalyptic wasteland, and I rushed to the grab the cranberry sauce from the end cap of the aisle, where it was freaking reminding people _not_ to forget it for their holiday meals. I turned around to get on line to check out, and straight out of one of those cheesy Hallmark movies, who do you think was standing at the checkout, holding a can of cranberry sauce and a six pack of beer? If you didn't guess Santana, _really?_

"Santana!" Yes, I yelled it. No, I have no shame. Of course, I _did_ lower my voice a little once she turned around, mostly because I was about to get _majorly_ shy. "Hi."

"Hey, Brittany." There was maybe a tiny hint of a smile, and underneath her long coat, I could see her scrub pants. It was so late on Christmas Eve, and apparently she'd just come from work? "How are you?"

"I'm…fine. How are you?"

"Same old, same old." She did that one shoulder shrug, and God, it got so silent that I could pretty much hear the deli guy slicing cold cuts. In the Hallmark movies, and like, snow started falling out of the rafters while a brass band played carols, and no one was ever awkward, but this? The opposite. No snow, no band, _all_ the awkward in the whole world _ever._ "You didn't go to Colorado for Christmas?"

"Nah, my mom wanted me to, but it's just been a really crazy year, so Tubbs and I decided to stay home. Were you working?"

"Yeah…" She gestured to herself, and I had to bite back a smile at how seeing her in scrub pants just reminded me of how we used to joke. You know when you miss someone the most? When they are standing literally _right_ in front of you, and it feels like you're seventy trillion miles apart. "I was supposed to be done early, but I had a patient admitted to the hospital this afternoon, so I'm just getting out. I guess I'm behind on my Christmas dinner prep, by the time I get the turkey in the oven, it won't be cooked until midnight."

"Are you having people over?"

"No, just me…" Awkward silence. So much awkward silence. It made my heart hurt and my head hurt and my _mouth_ hurt since I just stood there biting my tongue to keep from saying anything weird. "My parents went to Napa, and I was going to go, but Unique does a big Christmas thing with her family, and…I don't know, it's been a crazy year for me too, so I thought I'd work today for her and then just veg tonight and tomorrow."

"So how are you?" Oh, right. I already asked that…

"You already asked me that." _And_ there went the ninety shades of red coming to my cheeks. "I'm fine, I guess. I don't know. It's been a weird two months."

"Yeah." I stepped closer, but not too close where it would get weird. Right, because it wasn't _already_ weird. "I really miss you, Santana. I know that I said some dumb things, and I said that fate was keeping us apart. But now we're here, and we have cranberry sauce and I've thought about you every single second since you hung up the phone."

One beat. Two beats. Three beats. Four beats. It was so damn silent that I swore I could hear electricity crackling through the wires overhead, and much like in one of those damn movies, it felt like everything and everyone stood still, just _waiting_ for her to say something. She looked down, she played with the zipper of her jacket, and I felt like I was going to puke macaroni and cheese all over the floor. But I didn't regret saying it. I was here, she was here, and really, it was dumb and ridiculous and I didn't even know how it was possible that I could miss someone that ninety-nine percent of my interaction with was through text messaging, but God, I did. I missed her so bad that it hurt, and I just wanted her to say _anything._

"I miss you too." My jaw dropped, since obviously I couldn't get through a conversation with her without looking like a gaping fool.

"Really?"

"You didn't just disappear from my mind, Brittany. Even from across the world, you were a part of my every day for ten months. _Not_ talking to you left this huge hole in my life."

"I never wanted to not talk to you."

"I didn't _know_ what you wanted. I've replayed our last conversation in my head ten- _thousand_ times, and I just keep hearing you talk about getting hit by a bus and being so damn _convinced_ that we weren't going to work. I was really pissed at you at first, but once I calmed down, I was just _sad._ I wanted to text you so badly, just dumb stuff about the weather, or my day, but it was just like…what was I supposed to do besides give you space? Act like I didn't care that you expressly said you didn't want to do this anymore? Beg you to date me? Throw myself out there when I had no idea what you were feeling? Feel fucking _shattered_ again like I did that night on the phone?"

"I just…I didn't know what to _say_ after that, Santana. I was so freaked out by how I felt about you. I'm _still_ freaked out by how I _feel_ about, because it hasn't changed. When I texted you on Thanksgiving, I wrote seventeen different messages and then erased them. And then, when I got to Colombia, I did a shot of _Antioqueño_ in the airport to get the courage to text you, and then after I said I missed you, you didn't text me back."

"Do you think I didn't stare at that message for hours? But what was I supposed to say? That chest hurt every time I saw the back of someone's blonde head even though I knew you weren't even in the country? That the only thing that kept me from getting on a plane after you said that was my stupid pride? That I was trying to believe in fate, and that you and I actually _were_ meant to be?" She raised her voice, and I felt all these chills in my body, both because she was saying these things, that she _missed_ me too, just as much as I'd missed her, and because those eyes of hers were just…I don't know, too much. "I never wanted to hurt you. I just didn't know if you missed me because you were homesick, or if you missed me because you really felt the same way. And I didn't answer because saying I miss you too wasn't enough, and I couldn't even come close to saying what I wanted, especially not in a text message."

"I…I never wanted to hurt you either." There was so much to say, but that, I figured, was the most important.

"Uh, excuse me?" Of course, the cashier chose that exact second to interrupt us, and I had to suck in a breath so I wasn't super rude by glaring at him. "I know you're…uh…dealing with some stuff, but we're closing in five minutes, if you could just pay for your stuff?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah, of course." Santana snapped to attention first, since I was pretty much just staring, jaw agape _again_ and trying to process what any of that meant. "Here, just…do it as one transaction so you can get out of here."

"Have Christmas dinner with me." I just blurted it out. She was there, I was there, there was a turkey cooked in my apartment, while she hadn't even started, but more than anything I just really felt this huge ache in my _everything_ to spend Christmas with her.

"What?" She turned around and sort of looked at me like I was insane, and really, what would a conversation between us be without me saying weird things and her just being unsure of how to handle them?

"Have Christmas dinner with me. Please."

"Why? Because we're both here, and that's some sign from fate that we should?"

"No. Because _I_ want to, and I hope you do too. Because I want to talk to you about _everything._ Because I miss you so much it makes me want to scream. Because even if the first time I kissed you, fate cracked open that giant New York City fault that's apparently going to kill us all one day, and we were stuck on opposite sides of it, I'd _still_ want to be with you. We've spent less than an hour in person together, and half of that time, I was hiding under a sheet, and _still,_ I managed to fall in love with you. And my mom keeps going on and on about how you're supposed to spend Christmas with the people you love, and somehow, here I am, standing at the checkout line of the Morton Williams with _you._ I don't even care about fate anymore, I just care about _you,_ but I'm pretty sure this is exactly what fate means, meeting you here tonight, because we both forgot cranberry sauce. Have Christmas dinner with me, because we have so much we need to talk about, and I'm afraid that if I walk out of this store without you, then I'll never see you again." So I pretty much said all of that in one breath, and then once it was done, I had to suck in air really fast, making me sputter. Brittany S. Pierce, sex goddess, ladies and gentlemen, and her great declaration of love. Imagine if Meredith Grey coughed all over Derek after _pick me, choose me, love me,_ or Jerry Maguire threw up on Dorothy after _you complete me,_ or if Lloyd Dobler dropped his boombox on Diane after his Peter Gabriel song finished. Yeah, that would be the romantic comedy of _my_ life. "I don't want to never see you again."

"Okay." That was it, one word. One word, and her taking the second can of cranberry sauce off of the conveyor belt. Seriously, I was pretty sure I might pass out.

"Okay. Okay, good."

It was weird—because when is it not?—when we trudged through the snow back to my apartment. Neither of us said anything, like not even a single word. I mean, for my part, I was barely even _breathing._ We were about halfway back when I'd realized that I'd told her that I'd fallen in love with her on my very long rant, and that's exactly the point at which my barely breathing turned into full on hyperventilating. I tried to mask it as best as I could, but seriously, if I collapsed in the street, I would be even more glad that I was with Santana as a medical professional.

I did not pass out, fate was clearly on my side for once, and when I walked into the apartment, into my own space, I felt like I could chill a little, even when Santana slipped off her coat and handed it to me to hang up in the closet. Lord Tubbington mewled a little from the couch, basking in the glow of the lights from the tree, but didn't get up from my unmade bed. Yes, the first time Santana Lopez was in my little studio apartment, my bed was unmade, my sink was full of dishes, and I was pretty sure I may have left my underwear on the bathroom floor. The strange thing was though, I didn't even care. Not when she was standing there, in her eggplant scrubs—embroidered with S. Lopez DNP, that I found so adorable for some reason, okay?— and a black thermal, her hair in a low ponytail over her shoulder, looking just so pretty I wanted to cry.

"So, um, welcome to my apartment. Sorry about the mess…"

"It's cute, I like it." She laughed, and oh my _God,_ I forgot how much I missed that sound. She put the beer and the cranberry sauce down on the counter, and she sort of looked around again like she was going to make herself at home. I died, naturally. "Bottle opener?"

"Oh, it's…right in that drawer next to the sink I think?" I had no fucking clue. I didn't even know my own name, let alone where the bottle opener was.

She opened her beer, and I shook my head when she offered me one, instead, opting for the Spanish wine. I took slow sips of it, not wanted to get obliterated in three-point-eight seconds, but she tipped her head back and swallowed her beer so quickly that I could be nothing other than impressed. When she set the empty bottle down on the counter, I watched her throat bob with a huge swallow, and she looked straight into my eyes.

"Sorry. I needed that to chill out, because I'm kind of freaking out."

"You?" I raised an eyebrow. "I'm the freaking out one, always. You're the cool, calm and collected one."

"Trust me Brittany." Her laugh again. My death again. "I might filter what I say, but I'm _so_ far from cool, calm and collected. Especially when it comes to you."

"Oh." Yeah, _oh._ The tongue was back in knots, so that was cool.

"Did you mean it?" Her hand was on the bottle opener again, and I took another sip of my wine.

"Mean what?"

"That you fell in love with me."

"I know it's totally crazy, but I think of you and it's like nothing I've ever felt before. And I don't even know how it's possible, because I've never even _touched_ you, and not because of some weird Ned the Pie Maker kind of thing where I can't touch you because I'll kill you, but because we're usually thousands of miles apart, and you're mostly words on a screen. And long distance sucks and I'm not even excepting you to want to—"

"Brittany." She stepped closer. She put down the bottle opener. She took both of my hands. Remember when I was dead twice before? Yeah, you get the point. It wasn't even an electric Hallmark movie feeling when she touched me, it was just the point of feeling her hands around me own, the point that three-hundred-sixty-one days after we'd first met, this was happening. "You have this obsession with long distance not working, and I get it, that was one of the reasons your last relationship didn't work, but I'm not your ex-boyfriend, and like I told you on Halloween, I'd rather have that, than not have you at all. I've wanted to be with you since you started rambling about not making amateur porn, and for almost a year, I kept falling harder for you through those goofy texts that would make we walk around smiling at my phone all day. I felt like I was showing you that, and I had absolutely no idea whether you were as into me as I was into you."

"So you…?"

"If you being dense wasn't so endearing…." She shook her head, and I felt a big dumb smile spread across my face. "Of course I love you. I love you so much, Hot Ski Shop Girl."

"God bless us, everyone!" Definitely what people say after someone says that they love them, obviously. But she smiled, and she stepped closer, until she was my whole vision, and scent, and all the things that would have made me pass out like thirty seconds earlier, but instead, made me feel more alive than _ever._

"You're something else, Brittany Pierce." She did the head shake thing and the playful eye roll, the things I was so sure she did! "Now I've been waiting almost a year to kiss you…"

"Please."

Forget every cheesy Christmas movie, every romantic comedy, every show that airs on the WB, or the CW, or whatever they're calling it now, that first kiss with Santana was wins all the awards. She pressed her lips to mine, and I had to remember to actually kiss her back, rather than just standing there like a dead fish. I've kissed dead fish—kissers, not _actual_ fish—and it is _not_ sexy. Anyway, _this_ was the sexiest thing to ever happen. She kissed me and kissed me, and I put my hands on her face, pulling her closer and backing her body against the edge of the counter all at the same time. I swear, I would have kissed her forever and ever, I would have quit my job and cancelled my whole entire life, but then, the oven timer went off, and she kissed me one more time, before nudging me away with a laugh.

"You're not gonna think that's fate, right? The timer going off on us kissing? Because the biggest reason I didn't go to Napa was because I _really_ wanted your fate thing to work, and I will _not_ be bested by an over timer."

"I mean, I didn't mix up two of your friends, accidentally slut shame another, and then feel super weird around your best friend's boyfriend, so no." I pressed my tongue between my teeth—okay, and maybe was tasting her lips gloss leftover on mine while I did—and dropped my hand that was still resting on her cheek.

"I never got to apologize for _that._ I'm sorry I threw you to the wolves, but if it makes you feel _any_ better, the wolves, minus that bag of lip puss who we no longer associate with, actually thought you were strangely charming."

"Kurt almost threw me off a building."

"Kurt is entirely harmless. And also tried to buy us plane tickets to Colombia. You two can talk about watching too many movies, he thought we were going to pull an _Only You_ and search for you in a foreign country, until I threw a water bottle at his head and told him to leave my apartment and let me wallow."

"So then we were both _so_ nice to our friends for the last few months." I had to laugh, thinking of Tina, and she just did that head shake thing again, and reached behind me to turn off the oven. "I've gotta get this thing out, so we can eat, and then I can kiss you some more."

"Oh, I have waited a whole year for this, I plan on doing _so_ much more than just kissing you." She winked, and I coughed on imaginary sand. "Guess you were right about the scrubs."

How I carved a turkey and put it on the table without losing my fingers—a very, _very_ important thing, especially at that moment of time—was an absolute phenomenon. I kept feeling Santana's eyes on me, and I just wanted to stare at her face. I just wanted to revel in the fact that somehow I'd managed to bumble my way into making this _amazing_ woman falling in love with me. Those shitty, shitty two months were behind both of us, and as much as it was awesome to have Christmas dinner with her, what I really, really wanted, once she'd brought it up, was some Christmas _dessert._

Dinner was all small talk. Catching up on the two months worth of texts we hadn't exchanged, and me hastily telling her that I'd be in New York until February. A long, _long_ time for us to maybe build a relationship in the same place. The timing was perfect, the universe was aligning, all those things I needed, now that I was barely surviving a _dinner_ without kissing her, and I needed to adjust to the idea of _weeks._ But I wasn't going to think about that on Christmas Eve. I was mostly going to think about how gorgeous Santana was, how I could listen to her talk forever, and how I was really, really glad I'd put my clean, nice sheets on the bed the night before. Like I said, perfect, perfect timing.

Is it weird that I put on instrumental Christmas music after dinner? While I didn't want to hear that terrible song that made me think of how awful it was that Mary's baby grew up and died, I was totally cool hearing some _Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas_ being played on a guitar. It was fitting, really, since the fates _had_ allowed me the best Christmas _ever._ After I put the dishes in the dishwasher, insisting that Santana have another beer and sit on the couch, I had to wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans, mentally psyche myself up, and try to walk sexily to the other end of the room. She was just leaning back, the sexiest smirk on her face that I'd ever seen, and I sat down and let my knees brush hers before I leaned in for another kiss. She kissed me back, and after a few minutes of gentle, I pushed her back on the couch and straddled her thighs, just needing more, more more.

"So I—" I started rambling, my lips mostly pressed against hers. "I know my bed's a mess and _I'm_ a mess mostly, but my sheets are clean, and I don't have any diseases and I—"

"Brittany?" Holy fuck though, Santana breathless from _me_ kissing her was the sexiest thing ever, her pupils blown and her eyes so dark.

"Mhmm?"

"I love you, and I love your rambling, but please, right now, just shut up and kiss me."

You all know she didn't have to tell me twice. I also should get all the awards for not dying and/or injuring anyone while I managed to get her bra off from under her scrub top. Having her underneath me, even while she was fully clothed, was ah-mazing, and all my weird awkwardness totally went out the door at the sound of the moan she made when I simultaneously thumbed her nipples and dragged my teeth down the column of her neck. When Santana's hands went to the button on my jeans, I knew that I didn't want this to happen on the couch, and I nudged her legs around my waist to carry her the ten feet to the bed, shooing Lord Tubbington to go find his cranberry sauce in the kitchen and leave me alone while I wowed the girl of my wildest dreams.

Even after I accidentally bashed her head against the headboard—not hard, I swear—while dropping her down on the bed, she just giggled and pulled me back on top of her. Although I really just wanted to rip off those pants of hers and bury my head right between her thighs, I was _not_ about to rush this. We'd both waited too damn long, and even with her panting in my ear as she sucked the skin beneath it, and the way she lifted her hips in some kind of search for friction, I knew she was in no hurry either.

We undressed each other. I maybe breathed out an awed _wow_ when I saw her naked for the first time, and then yelped in surprise when she reversed our positions and pinned me back on the bed. I didn't care _what_ she did to me, not when she was bracing herself above me, and scratching my sides with her blunt fingernails. She was sex on a stick…or, like…sex on a person? I don't know. I can't even come up with analogies when the most beautiful person I've ever seen _isn't_ creeping her hands lower and lower on my body, what do you think my mind is like when that _is_ happening? Anyway, I could feel her wetness against my thigh when her fingers brushed my sex, and I tried to remember what my guy friends used to think about when they were trying not to embarrass themselves by coming too soon. I couldn't think of it, I could only think of her, and how I wanted to wrap my lips around her nipple and make her scream my name. _That_ was not a visual that helped, and I was a trembling _disaster_ when she brought two fingers to her lips, smirked, and then pressed them inside of me.

I stopped fighting my body eventually. It wasn't even possible to continue the ruse when she kissed me, I tasted myself on her, and she picked up the pace, all at the same time. Hello, Eros, is that you in there? I don't know if it was three seconds or three weeks, but I can tell you that she definitely made _me_ scream her name when _I_ came. Heaven, that's actually what heaven feels like, I'm totally sure of it, and would you believe it if I told you that she actually started working her way down my body while her fingers were still plunging in and out of me? Yeah. As much as Santana going down on me was in my top five fantasies, my actual number _one_ was that whole head between _her_ thighs, screaming _my_ name thing. There would be plenty of time for whatever else she wanted to do later, but I couldn't go another minute of my life without pulling her back up to kiss my mouth, and rolling her onto her back. Okay, maybe one more minute, while I just stared at her, seriously ethereal in the room lit only by the Christmas tree, heaving chest, blooming mark on the side of her neck, looking ready to be thoroughly ravaged.

"You just going to stare at me, or?" There was this breathless teasing that shot right to my still _throbbing_ sex, and I flicked her shoulder, making her laugh. You ever read those things about how you should have sex with someone you can laugh with _during?_ Yup. Check another one of those boxes for Santana Lopez. I definitely picked the right girl to fall in love with.

If I could have my mouth on every part of her body at once, I would have. But that would have meant she was a miniature human, so…anyway, no dumb thoughts, lips on flawless skin. I kissed her everywhere. I hummed against her abs, making her back arch and her breath quicken, and finally, I bent her knees up, so I could settle on my stomach and drag my tongue slowly through her. I considered saying _magically delicious,_ but somehow my non-existent filter turned on, and I did _not_ say anything strange. I just locked my eyes with hers, and I made her moan and hiss and dig her fingers into my scalp to pull me closer into her. That? _Hot._ She most definitely cried out my name, more than once, because I couldn't stop myself until she wriggled herself away from my mouth and dropped her head back on the pillows with a _Britt, please._

"Holy fucking shit." She groaned as I crawled back up her body and hovered over her.

"My mouth is good for something, isn't it?" I teased, kissing the side of her mouth and pulling the blanket over both of us so I could snuggle close to her.

"I like your mouth for _many_ things, but I repeat, _holy fucking shit."_

"I aim to please, babe." I chuckled, making her arch an eyebrow, and me blush.

"Babe, huh?"

"Uh, I mean…I just figured—" _Her_ mouth cut me off with a kiss, and I totally smiled into it like a goon.

"You figured right. I like it, _babe."_ She looked past me, and I couldn't tell what she was doing, until her face got weird soft, she tangled her legs with mine so she could get closer to me, and I realized that it must have been after midnight. "Merry Christmas, Britt."

"So does this mean you're my Christmas gift?"

"Well I didn't exactly have time to buy you anything." Her tongue between her teeth made me laugh so hard that I actually got a stitch in my side.

"You know that's not what I meant. _Since_ I already unwrapped you—" Her eyebrows waggled while I spoke, and jeeze, it was really impossible for her not to be cute and sexy and perfect for three seconds while I tried to to stumble over my words.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, go, I won't interrupt."

"Lies, your face interrupts me."

"I'm…sorry? Would you like me to get a face transplant?"

"No!" She winced at the scream and the proximity of my mouth to her ear, so obviously I had to kiss it and make it better. "Also, cute that you'd get a face transplant for me."

"That's the _weirdest_ thing anyone has ever said to me, and somehow, you make it endearing."

"My skill in life, apparently."

"Among _many."_ She waggled her eyebrows _again,_ then bit her lip to stop herself. "Okay, okay, go, I'm sorry. You were saying?"

"Well I was talking about undressing you, but mostly I was trying to ask how you felt about being my girlfriend? Even with all the me being gone a lot and the distance stuff?"

"So the 'I'd rather have that than not be with you at all' and the 'I love you' and all the naked, and the 'you thought right' didn't give that away for you, Britt?" Playful eye roll, my favorite thing _ever,_ basically. "I fell in love with you when you were on another continent, I'm pretty sure I can _stay_ in love with you while you are. _Yes_ , I would _love_ to be your girlfriend ."

"Score!" That one, I did intentionally, just to make her roll her eyes and kiss me again, and I pulled the blanket around both of us, when that was followed by her big adorable yawn. Spoiler alert: everything she does is adorable. "So, since you're my girlfriend now, I need to talk to you about going to this wedding with me."

"What? You have a wedding to go to? I had absolutely no idea…"

* * *

 **End Note: But did you really think I wouldn't give you an epilogue? Look for an update on how they're doing THIS Christmas in a few days!**


	10. Epilogue

**Author's Note: Here we go, the epilogue, a year later...so, TODAY! Sorry for the fog, New York travelers, I totally didn't see THAT coming when I wrote this. But we all have a BWI Airport horror story, right? (I totally slept in a stranger's house once because I got fogged in...YIKES) Have the happiest of holidays, see you all with new things and continuations of my ongoing stories in the new year!**

* * *

 _ **Baltimore, Maryland—Eastern Standard Time**_

 _December 24, 2015_

 _Good afternoon, passengers of flight 2132 bound for New York-JFK Airport. Due to dangerous fog conditions in New York, this flight has been delayed until tomorrow morning at eleven-ten. That is eleven-ten tomorrow morning. We thank you for your patience, and wish you a happy holiday._

Fuck. Like actually, _fuck._ I should have known when I'd taken an assignment that ended on December 23rd that something was bound to go wrong, but do I ever learn? No. Clearly, never. And so there I was, on Christmas Eve, stuck in Baltimore, where my connecting flight had been cancelled. And my girlfriend? Well, she was in New York, waiting for me to go to Christmas dinner at her parents' house.

Yes, my girlfriend. Still Santana. Does that surprise you? It still surprises _me_ sometimes, honestly. She's something else, that woman, I'm telling you. While I'd definitely cut my number of assignments down a little—much to the irritation of my boss, I think, since I'd been the _only_ one willing to visit close to thirty countries in a fifty-two week span—I was still gone a _lot,_ definitely way more than most people's girlfriends, that's for sure. But we made do. We were in near constant contact through text, we managed to FaceTime every day, no matter what time zone I was in, she'd come to Europe with me for a week over the summer, and we had _definitely_ turned phone sex into an art. I was head over heels in love with her, and things were going amazingly, except for the fact that I'd obviously scheduled my returning flight home from Panama _way_ to close to Christmas, our first anniversary, and, you know, the day I was going to propose to her, but minor details.

 _'Hey babe!"_ Santana miraculously picked up her phone, even though I knew she had back to back patients until two, when she'd made these big plans to come meet me at the airport. Sometimes we like to reenact rom-com scenarios, we're pretty cute like that.

"Hi baby." She could hear it in my voice, I knew she could, and I kind of wanted to cry. I'd seriously been planning this whole dumb night in my head for a month, and _why_ I'd expected it to go off without a hitch was beyond me. I knew myself, didn't I?

 _'What's wrong, Britt?'_

"Is it foggy there?" Yes, obviously I was going to check. I flew on a lot of planes, and still, I wasn't sure how trustworthy those announcer people were.

 _'Uh, yeah. It's been pretty miserable today actually. I swear, it doesn't even feel like Christmas when I don't even have a thermal under my scrubs, and I'm freaking sweating in my lab coat.'_ She ranted, and I didn't really know if I should smile at her cute, or cry because I was about to make it feel _less_ like Christmas. _'Wait, why?'_

"Santana, I'm really sorry."

 _'What? Why are you—? Oh."_ She sucked in a breath on the other end of the line, and I bit my tongue. ' _You're stuck.'_

"They rescheduled my flight for tomorrow at like eleven. I'm gonna try and get on another flight, but if it's that foggy there, it's probably not an airline thing. Fuck, I'm sorry."

 _'Britt, stop, it's not your fault. I love you, I think you're incredibly multi-talented, but as far as I know, you haven't been able to change the weather yet.'_

"Did you watch _The Year Without a Santa Claus_ without me?" So it was all I could think of to say, talking about changing the weather, Heat Miser and Snow Miser. Obviously, my brain was broken from being so upset.

 _'I didn't, I know it's your favorite, and I set your DVR to record it so we could watch it in your bed when you got home.'_

"And this is why I love you."

 _'Because I record you seventies Christmas specials?'_

"That, and also because you're cute and think that I'm going to remember that I want to watch that when I have my sexy girlfriend in my bed."

 _'We have to come up for air at some point.'_ She laughed, and that was like, the _worst_ thing for me, the pangs of homesickness that hit me whenever I heard her laugh. It sucked, like the worst.

"I miss you." So maybe it came out like a whimper, whatever, it was Santana, I could be however pathetically shmoopy as I wanted to be. My hands went to my neck, and I ran my thumb over the coordinates on the bar necklace she'd given me for my birthday. 40°44N/74°00'W, close to my heart no matter where in the world I was.

 _'I really miss you too, Britt, and I hate that you're going to be stuck alone in an airport on Christmas Eve.'_

"I just hate that I'm not with you."

' _Britt.'_ She sniffled, then I sniffled, and then I became a stupid crying mess in the airport, and she became a stupid crying mess in her office. We were a pair, that's for sure. _'I gotta go, I've got a patient, but keep me posted, okay?'_

"Mhmm, I will. I love you, baby."

 _'Love you too, and can't wait to have you back.'_

I hung up the phone. I went up to the counter and asked about another flight, my heart sinking that I was right, and I couldn't get on another plane to New York. While I probably should have just gone to find a hotel room before they all booked up, I just sank back into a seat, feeling utterly depressed. Due to my obsession with bad Christmas movies, I sat there for twenty-five minutes, expecting the pilot to suddenly escort me to a private fog-proof plane, or for Santa to appear with Santana in the back of his sleigh, wrapped in a bow or something. Obviously, that didn't happen, bummer. I put my hand in my pocket, felt around for the ring that was there, then sang some Alanis to myself. _What it all comes down to is that everything's gonna be fine, fine, fine._ Yeah, Alanis? You sure about that? Can you use your magic powers of fake irony to maybe send me one of those free rides or something? Ugh. I looked around the airport, and that's pretty much all I saw, a sweeping state of _ugh_ going on. Stuck in an airport for Christmas, that is _definitely_ Alanis level irony.

"Boyfriend back home?" I turned my head to the woman next to me, who was obviously one of those plane-chatty type of people, who there was probably a special place in hell for. But she kind of reminded me of my Granny, and it was Christmas, so just because my heart was shrinking like the Grinch because I couldn't get honor, that didn't mean I'd be rude.

"Girlfriend, actually. Maybe fiancée soon." I tried to shrug it off, but can you imagine the dopey grin on my face when I said that? Definitely the dopiest. "Today's our anniversary, and I was going to propose, and like, I'm really trying _not_ end up pulling a _me_ and call her up and being like _marry me_ over the phone, and then inevitably saying something about diarrhea. Jeeze, I'm sorry, I'm doing it now."

Okay, so maybe _I_ was one of those people. Will I see any of you in hell?

"That's...well that's a shame that you can't be with her. She's probably a really special girl..."

Yeah, okay, so I knew that the woman was probably thinking I was a total weirdo, and that maybe this maybe-almost-fiancée of mine was a figment of my imagination, but because I couldn't help myself, I swiped through the pictures in my phone, finding the one she'd sent me the day before, chin on her hand, pouting in front of the Christmas tree on her desk that I wasn't home yet. Have I mentioned she's the cutest? She is. No competition.

"She's very pretty."

"Right? She's a nurse practitioner and has her own practice, she's also _amazing_ at like...everything." Then I blushed, because I was totally gushing and probably sounded ridiculous. "Anyway, sorry, I travel a _lot_ for work, so I was just hoping to be home for Christmas. You're going to New York too?"

"I am. It's my granddaughter's first Christmas, so let's just hope this fog lifts before I miss it completely. Here, now it's my turn to show off _my_ girl."

"She's so cute." I looked at the picture on her phone and smiled at her. She was really, really cute, with this super dark curly hair, and obviously, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't thinking about how a baby with Santana might look like that. You know, if she said yes to my proposal. "Aw man, that sucks that you're missing Christmas Eve with her."

"Yeah, if I felt confident about driving up there, I'd be already at the car rental place."

"Wait, _what?"_ I didn't even _think_ of that. _How_ did I not think of that? Baltimore was less than a four hour drive from New York, and yeah, maybe the fog and traffic would add a bunch of time on the trip, and maybe I wouldn't make it to Santana's parents for dinner, but if I could just get into bed with her before midnight, it would be _so_ worth it. "I'm gonna do that." I paused, considered, and took in this woman who is met five minutes ago. "Do you want to come?"

"Oh, I—"

"I mean, I promise I'm not a murderer or anything. I mean, would a murderer tell you they're a murderer? No, no, hold on, let me start over. I'm Brittany, I'm a photographer, I'm also a really safe driver, I've driven on six continents, and I have a totally clean license. If you wanna come and get home in time for Christmas Eve with your granddaughter, I'm totally happy to have the company." Maybe I was nuts, and maybe other don't just invite strangers on a mad dash up the east coast, but it was Christmas, and it _was_ her suggestion for me to rent a car to begin with.

"You're certainly an interesting character, aren't you?"

"Sorry, it's just a thing I do. I spend most of my time watching people—not in a creepy way, in a photographer way—and I get weird when I actually have to talk to them. Santana calls it _endearing,_ which is probably just a nice way of saying weird but..."

"She sounds like she really loves you." She picked her handbag up and stood, holding out her hand. "I'm Olivia, let's go to New York."

So it turns out, Olivia was actually some kind of miracle Christmas angel—since obviously I believe in Christmas magic, especially when it comes to finding my way to Santana—and she knew _exactly_ how to find the rental cars in BWI, and even stepped in and somehow got us a bright blue Honda Civic when the agent insisted that all he had were _premium_ cars that were was jacked up in price. I would gave paid it, obviously, since the idea was in my head of making it home, but still, it was nice to not have to, and even nicer to be able to split the cost. I might have a wedding to pay for, after all.

Deciding at this point, knowing I'd never make it in time for dinner with Santana's parents, that maybe it would be fun to be her Christmas surprise—I know, it was kind of a lame fucking surprise _SURPRISE! I was supposed to be here and then I wasn't, but then I drove two hundred miles because I love you,_ classic. Honestly if she called me, I probably would have completely caved and told her, but she was so busy getting ready that she _didn't_ , and even though there was an obscene amount of traffic and slow going in the fog, I felt sort of giddy knowing that I'd just knock on her door and surprise her in…maybe eighty-seven hours, if the traffic ever moved. We were somewhere still south of Philly, three hours into our trip, in stopped traffic, when my phone vibrated between my legs. Olivia was in the middle of a story about her granddaughter, and I didn't want to be rude, but…

 **FROM: MY SEXY NURSE DOCTOR 3 [12/24/15 6:43:12PM]** : Hey babe. Just got to my parents'. Miss you. Love you. :*

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/24/15 6:43:21PM]:** Miss you, love you too. Tell them I'm sorry, and Merry Christmas, and I hope they like the wine.

 **FROM: MY SEXY NURSE DOCTOR 3 [12/24/15 6:43:48PM]** : You and that Spanish wine :P

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/24/15 6:44:02PM]:** First time I drank it, I asked you to come to Spain with me, can you blame me?

 **FROM: MY SEXY NURSE DOCTOR 3 [12/24/15 6:44:19PM]** : First time I drank it, I was IN Spain with you, so no.

 **FROM: MY SEXY NURSE DOCTOR 3 [12/24/15 6:44:28PM]** : Also, I kinda promised Tubbs he was going home tonight. Do you mind if I stay at yours tonight?

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/24/15 6:44:47PM]:** Anxious to get in my bed? ;)

 **FROM: MY SEXY NURSE DOCTOR 3 [12/24/15 6:45:01PM]** : Always.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/24/15 6:45:13PM]:** So then I should come right to mine and show you WHY you're anxious to be in my bed?

 **FROM: MY SEXY NURSE DOCTOR 3 [12/24/15 6:45:31PM]** : I see where you're going with this, Pierce. No sexting at Christmas dinner.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/24/15 6:45:46PM]:** Is that in the Bible?

 **FROM: MY SEXY NURSE DOCTOR 3 [12/24/15 6:46:05PM]** : It's in the Santana Lopez rules for life.

 **FROM: MY SEXY NURSE DOCTOR 3 [12/24/15 6:46:12PM]** : Bye, Britt. Love you.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/24/15 6:46:34PM]:** Love you more.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/24/15 6:46:41PM]:** :P

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/24/15 6:46:53PM]:** Just imagine THAT.

 **FROM: MY SEXY NURSE DOCTOR 3 [12/24/15 6:47:09PM]** : STOP.

"I know that face." Olivia smiled from the passenger seat, and I turned about eight-hundred shades of red. Yes, that was red, even for _me._

"She's at her parents'. I hate that I'm not there, so I was going to entertain her. But…anyway…"

"Hopefully we'll make it up there in time for _breakfast."_ She waved off all of my stammering, and I tucked my phone back between my legs, knowing she wouldn't be able to text much while she was at dinner with her big extended family.

"If this is Philly, I'm _scared_ of what traffic will be like in New York. No one is even _moving._ This fog is worse than a snowstorm." I banged my hands on the steering wheel and rolled my eyes. At this rate, that morning flight would get in before we did. "How about a little Christmas magic?"

So obviously, my summoning Christmas magic didn't work. Honestly, I'd sort of half-expected the traffic to be parted making a path for me to zip through. I know, wrong holiday, wrong religion, but still, it would have been cool, no? Honestly, I was _really_ glad I'd asked Olivia to come with me though. Not only did she buy me dinner at a McDonald's off of I-95, but she was also so entertaining, telling me stories about her own surprisingly wild childhood. Considering she was wearing a brooch and Clark's shoes, I was shocked, and laughed a little, thinking of _me_ as an old lady someday, hopefully _with_ Santana, and hopefully _not_ stuck in traffic, going to visit _our_ grandbaby for Christmas. Yeah, cue a big dopey grin, because that's _adorable._

 **FROM: MY SEXY NURSE DOCTOR 3 [12/24/15 10:06:32PM]** : _[IMAGE 01825 SENT]_

 **FROM: MY SEXY NURSE DOCTOR 3 [12/24/15 10:06:19PM]** : Didn't let them rope me into mass. Wish you were here.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/24/15 10:06:38PM]:** Sending me pictures of you in my bed is rude.

 **FROM: MY SEXY NURSE DOCTOR 3 [12/24/15 10:06:45PM]** : Soon.

 **FROM: B. PIERCE [12/24/15 10:07:01PM]:** SO SOON.

Little did she know how soon _so soon_ really was, considering I was literally dropping Olivia off at her daughter's house on the Upper East Side, and accepting hugs and cookies and a bottle of brandy from her son-in-law, who was just _so_ excited that she'd managed to make it up. It made me feel all kinds of festive, and God, I was less than a half hour away from Santana, less than a half hour away from maybe putting that ring in my pocket to good use. I kind of wanted to throw up, honestly, since that was kind of major, but if I threw up, it would _totally_ be rainbows.

Once I had the car dropped off at the same rental car place that Santana had been headed to the first time we'd ran into each other in the street and had pizza—aw, like some kind of journey into our past before I proposed to her, I thought that was kind of cute—I dragged all of my bags through the pea soup fog, and when I saw a bodega still open, I ducked inside and bought the biggest bouquet of lilies I could find, maybe definitely shouting a merry Christmas to the man behind the counter, and skipping out the door. Providing I didn't get hit by a bus in the half a block I had to walk, I was _home,_ and if you think I wasn't going to kiss the shit out of Santana on our Christmaversary, you are _wrong._ Her texts had been silent for awhile, and I knew her, she'd probably fallen asleep with her glasses still on, reading either some important medical text, or the trashiest magazine she could find. She was diverse like that.

When I got to the outside of my building, I sort of had a moment of panic that maybe Olivia had been a kindly old lady mugger, or I'd dropped the ring, box and all, down the toilet of that filthy rest stop in New Jersey, and I gripped at my pants pocked, breathing a sigh of relief when I felt the box. _Then,_ I had another moment of panic because holy _crap,_ I was going to propose to Santana, and _double_ holy crap, what if she was pissed at me that I didn't tell her I was coming. I read a poem like that once, about a surprise party, and it gave me nightmares. Anyway, lack of forethought, that's my thing, right? Taking a breath, I opened the door, and I dragged all my crap up the three flights of stairs. I tried to be as quiet as possible when I unlocked the door, gasping when I opened it and saw the little tree, the lights, and my amazing, amazing girlfriend who'd decorated my freaking apartment for Christmas.

I seriously couldn't even with her, and I hushed Lord Tubbington's loud mewls with a treat from my pocket and looked over at her in the bed, sleeping just as I'd expected, her magazine on my pillow, glasses on her face, and her hair splayed out everywhere. No, but really, long distance _sucked,_ but can I just say that the only thing that was kind of amazing about it was that every time I came back and saw her, I fell about a billion more times in love with her? Because really, it was actually sort of amazing. Anyway, screw the shower, screw everything—ha. ha. _everything,_ not kidding—I pulled my jeans off, pulled my sweatshirt up over my head, and I slipped into bed under the covers behind Santana, pressing the softest kiss on the side of her face and tangling my bare legs with hers.

"Huh? What?" She stirred, looking so cute with her little scrunchy confused face.

"Merry Christmas, baby."

She turned around, and _fuck_ she was wearing my Cheeseasaurus Rex shirt, and she smelled like her and _home._ God, it hit me so hard how much more I'd missed her than I thought, and I really never wanted to leave again.

"Holy _fuck!_ Did I sleep for like fifteen hours?" She rubbed her eyes. "I got all this stuff for Christmas brunch, and I was going to make mimosas, and—"

"Santana, you've only been asleep for maybe an hour."

"Wait, _what?_ How?"

"I didn't want to miss Christmas Eve with you and our anniversary, and stuff. I thought I might make it back for the end of dinner, but traffic was a nightmare."

"Traffic?"

"Oh, yeah, I met this old lady, Olivia, in the airport, and she was trying to get home to see her granddaughter for her first Christmas, but she wasn't comfortable driving, and then it was like, she was my Christmas angel or something, so I rented a car, and her and I just drove up here." I rambled out all in one breath, and a smile quirked on the corners of her mouth.

"You just drove here from Maryland with a strange old lady to make it home to me?"

"I know, it's totally crazy, but she didn't seem like a bank robber, or a jewelry robber, and I've still got the engagement ring and—" Oops. "Fuck, I was so close."

"Britt?"

"Yeah."

"Did I ever tell you that I love you?" She smiled this, like, _ridiculous_ smile, the kind that made my heart all smushy.

I didn't even respond, as much as I just wanted to be like _tell me again, over and over, until the day I die,_ I just kissed her over and over and over again. I mean, obviously, I'd been in Panama for two weeks, I had a lot of kissing to make up for. I scratched my fingers down her thighs, and finding that she was _definitely_ not wearing any underwear, I rolled over on top of her and grazed my fingers through her wetness _just_ to feel her. Well, okay, maybe more than just to feel her. Maybe I missed her a whole fucking lot, and I wanted to bury my fingers inside of her and make her writhe. Maybe just a little. I can tell you _she_ didn't protest that, she just wrapped her legs around my waist and opened herself up further to me. She wove her fingers through my hair, and she pulled me closer, kissed me harder, and had to moan something about scissors three times, before I realized what it was she wanted.

Once I figured _that_ out— _duh,_ Brittany—I used one hand to slide out of my panties, while keeping the other sliding in and out of her. It was unreal how good it felt touching her, like, to the point where I'd _literally_ gotten off more than once without her touching me. Actual sex goddess, ridiculous. Anyway, _yes,_ I could get off without being touched, but that was _not_ what was happening right there. She was so close that part of me wanted to duck under the covers and finish her with my mouth _first,_ but her hands had left my hair and were digging into my ass, shifting her body so I could press our sexes together. Yeah, it's like goddamn electric sparks whenever we scissor—I mean, truth time, I totally lost my scissoring virginity to Santana, so, there's also _that—_ and I just loved being able to touch her everywhere else _and_ kiss her mouth, _and_ basically drown in her while I made love to her.

She came first, and really quickly, given the fact that I'd been pretty frantic in my motions _before_ this, but she didn't still her hips for a second, even as she gasped and panted. Somehow, she managed to get rid of my tank top and bra, and her mouth closed around one of my nipples, making me whimper and press down hard, chasing release in this frantic sort of way. She knew how desperate I was, how all the phone sex in the world didn't compare to the feel of skin on skin, the taste of her tongue, the bite of her nails, the noises she made in my ear, _all of it,_ and she worked to push me over the edge, bringing her lips back to mine and sucking my tongue into her mouth. She drank in every moan, and when I came, she came with me a second time, falling back onto the pillows limp and tousled.

"God, babe." She panted, eyes flickering in the Christmas lights and her damp hair streaked across her forehead. "You didn't waste any time."

'Well." I bit my lip sheepishly. "I'm fairness, I'd planned on being home this afternoon, so this would have been like…eight hours later."

"I am _not_ complaining." Santana laughed, and kissed me again, putting her hands on both sides of my face to study me. "You drove home to me, you are _insane."_

"Insanely in love with you." Okay, yeah, she makes me a giant cheeseball. World record holder cheeseball. Call up those people in Wisconsin, let them know that I've stripped them of their title. "How was dinner tonight?"

"Well, my _abuela_ sat at the same table with me."

"Wait, what, really?"

"Yeah! I mean, she didn't say a word or anything, but, that felt like some kind of progress or something, I don't know."

"Baby! I'm so sorry I missed that, I mean, she might not have wanted to sit with you if I was there or anything, but…I don't know. I'm rambling."

"You, ramble? Never."

"Shut up." I laughed, and then, holy crap, I remembered about the ring and my plans, and saw that it was super close to midnight.

Without another word, I rolled out of bed and grabbed for my jeans, yanking the ring box out of the pocket and kneeling between her legs on the bed. She still had my shirt on, and she shuffled into a sitting position, looking at me with these big wide eyes. So obviously I loved her more, because she _breathed_ and I loved her more, but…I was about to propose to her, so that was about a _billion_ mores. It didn't even matter that I had planned this whole thing where I hung the ornament on her Christmas tree—since I'd figured we'd be spending Christmas Eve _there—_ and like, had her search for it, or something. This, me, totally naked, in just my coordinate necklace, and her, looking so deliciously spent, felt way more like us, and I flipped open the box with my thumbs, not remembering what kind of order you were supposed to do these things in.

"Holy _crap."_ She breathed, making _both_ of us laugh, since that was totally _my_ thing to say.

"I know, right? And I didn't even lose it."

"I love you, so fucking much, Brittany Susan Pierce." That head shake thing, remember that one I loved? Yeah, she did it. Hashtag _favorite._ "Like really, I've had the best year of my life being with you."

"Hey, sneaky, I'm supposed to be giving the speech." I started blinking _crazy_ fast, because I knew I was going to start crying basically _immediately._ "Santana Lopez, I love _you_ so much. Like this whole crazy amount, that makes my stomach _still_ feel bubbly. It's seriously _crazy_ that you made me want to put down all these roots, and gave me a place to come home to. I can't even explain what it is you mean to me, and how I'm so sure that I belong with you that I've stopped being so freaked out by good things happening to me, because they're happening with _you. Fuck."_ I wiped my eyes, because I was really crying like a _lot,_ and I was kind of afraid I was going to puke all over her. "Sorry. Sorry, I just…You've never asked me to change who I am, or give up doing what I love, and I am just _so_ grateful for that. I love that I can be myself with you, even when I accidentally told the story of when I pooped my pants on the plane the first time I met your parents. I love that you _love_ me, and if you agree to, I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

"Yes! Of course I will!"

"Wait! I forgot to actually _ask_ you!" I climbed up over her and took her hands. "Santana Lopez, will you marry me?"

"You…" She used the heels of her hands to wipe some of her tears, but they kept falling down and coating her lips, so I just _had_ to kiss them away. "Yes, Britt. I'll marry you."

"Holy _crap."_ I laughed, and she laughed, and she pulled me back down on her to kiss me deeply. The ring box still in my hand. "Can I say _score?"_

"Remember how you said you can be yourself with me? I'd be _really_ offended if you didn't say _score."_

"Score!" I slipped the ring on her finger, and kissed the plan of her hand.

"I love you a whole lot."

"Eh, I kinda like you too." I shrugged and pursed my lips. "Best Christmas Eve ever!"

"Best _year_ ever, Britt."


End file.
